


Open Your Eyes series

by corneroffandom



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-08 10:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 48,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11644863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corneroffandom/pseuds/corneroffandom
Summary: Short Alberto/Ricardo fics





	1. Chapter 1

Alberto Del Rio closes his eyes and shakes his head desperately, opening his eyes to stare at a calendar once more after a few moments. March 18th. Six months ago to the day, he had finally faced himself and admitted his feelings to the ring announcer currently sleeping on the bed behind him. It's well after midnight by now, the anniversary of that day _officially_ past, but their failed plans matter little to him right now. Hours earlier, Ricardo had been caught in Jack Swagger's ankle lock, the brutal man twisting and tearing until his ankle had snapped, Ricardo's screams and pleads filling the arena for long, horrible minutes after that. Remains with Alberto even now.

To their credit the ER had worked quickly and actually succeeded at getting him x-rayed, leg set and in a plaster cast, released within two hours, but Alberto had known upon realizing what had happened immediately following the attack that there would be no celebrating tonight, easing him into bed as soon as they'd arrived back at the hotel room, frowning at the tears still drying on Ricardo's pale face. But he doesn't mind, knowing that rest is what the man really needs right now, so he continues to stare out at the stars and think quietly about everything.

He's not sure how long he's been standing there when there's a muffled, near-whimper sound behind him and he turns slowly, surprised to find dark, pain-filled eyes peering back at him. His lips twitch into a sad smile as he approaches the bed, leaning carefully against it. "Hey," he greets Ricardo as he blinks up at him in sleepy confusion. "Go back to sleep, hm? Everything's ok..." He expects the younger man to do just that, give in to his visible need for rest, but Ricardo simply stares at him, lips held in a thin line. "What is it?"

Sniffing slightly, the ring announcer struggles to sit up and finally makes it, peering down at the edge of the bed. His face falls further and he flops back against the pillows, covering his face with his hands. "I'd hoped it was a nightmare," he admits, voice muffled. "But it's not."

Alberto's heart sinks and he grips the younger man's hands, gently prying them away until he can see his eyes. "No, I wish it was too. I'm so sorry, Ricardo. So sorry..."

"Why?" he asks faintly. "It's not your fault, they attacked... attacked you too. If I could've helped more effectively-"

"No, no, don't- don't say that. You did the best you could." Alberto sinks down next to him and pulls him closer, running his fingers through his soft hair. He takes a deep breath, listening as Ricardo's breaths hitch every few moments. Knowing that the younger man won't be able to go back to sleep while so upset and in pain, he eases him back against the pillows as an idea comes to him, cupping his face and peering into his eyes. "I'll be back in a few moments, alright? Just relax." Kissing him softly, he adjusts the sheets around the younger man and grabs his phone, wallet and keycard from the table before heading for the door.

Ricardo sits up once more when he realizes his employer is leaving the room, mouth dry as a wave of fresh horror overwhelms him, leaves him feeling even more ill. "El Patron-"

Alberto turns at the door to stare at him, realizing why he's looking at him like that. "It's alright, Ricardo, I won't be gone long. Everything will be fine."

"But Swagger-"

"Won't touch me," he insists softly, abandoning the door and returning to the bed to sooth his beyond stressed out ring announcer. "Lay back. Come now." Pressing him back gently, he smiles sadly as finally Ricardo eases back against the pillows and stares up at him uncertainly. "There you go." He pats his jaw and smiles. "I'll be _fine,_ Ricardo. Those cowards are probably long gone anyway. I'm not looking for any trouble, I swear to you."

Ricardo finally seems to believe his words, nodding slightly. "Alright, El Patron." He's almost at the door for a second time when the ring announcer speaks up again. "Be careful."

Alberto sighs, his heart warming at the quietly spoken words. "Si, I will," he insists before clicking the door shut behind him.

When he returns, Ricardo is still awake, watching the door anxiously. Barely ten minutes have passed and he looks surprised when Alberto walks into the room, laying bags down on the desk. "You're back," he breathes out, some tension draining from his shoulders. "What are in those?"

"You'll find out," he hums, returning to the bed and cupping Ricardo's face, softly kissing him again to make up for how badly he'd worried the man earlier. When Ricardo begins to pout against his lips at not being told, Alberto smiles and pulls back. "Alright, I suppose I should get your imput on _something._ "

Ricardo blinks. "Alright..."

"Would you be alright if I moved you from this bed, or do you want to stay where you're at?"

He looks more confused than earlier. "What is this about, El Patron?"

"You'll see. Just tell me, do you want to stay in bed? Either way is ok, I just want to know how you honestly feel."

Ricardo shakes his head. "If you help me, I can hobble somewhere, as long as I keep off of my ankle and it's not too far away..."

Alberto's smile grows a bit mischevious. "Not entirely what I was going for." When Ricardo still looks uncertain, Alberto leans over and scoops him out of bed with no warning, grinning when the ring announcer gasps and wraps his arms around his neck, eyes wide.

"El Patron!" he chokes out, clinging to him. "Your- your knee-"

"Is fine. Don't worry. I won't drop you."

"That's not what I'm worried about- what if you hurt yourself-?!"

"I won't." He subtly adjusts his hold on the ring announcer and wanders over to the balcony of their room, Ricardo surprised to find a blanket covering the floor in front of the doors, where they have a decent view outside.

"What is this?" he breathes out as Alberto gently kneels down and settles him against the soft fabric, careful that his leg rests safely against the floor before turning back to smile at him.

"I figured if you couldn't sleep, we might as well get _something_ out of tonight," he whispers quietly, touseling his hair. Stepping back to the bed, he collects a pillow and returns to Ricardo's side, gently lifting his casted leg and resting it on the pillow. "Alright?"

Ricardo nods grimly, it all clicking together as his eyes fall. "Lo siento, all of our plans-"

"Can be rescheduled for when you're feeling better," Alberto whispers, shifting until he's sitting behind the ring announcer and wrapping his arms around him, leaning him back against his chest. "There's a nice view of the stars from here."

Ricardo turns to look out the balcony windows and nods quietly, feeling better than he has in awhile encircled in the comfort of his employer's warm and safe arms. "Si, there is."

They watch for awhile before Alberto shifts, nuzzling against his neck. "Now I know you're aware I kept your gifts in Florida so I could give them to you tomorrow once we flew home and not have TSA do who knows what with them..."

"Mm hmm," he murmurs, lulled by the feel of his employer's touch and the simplicity of the stars twinkling outside. Finally the words register with him and he looks over his shoulder at Alberto. "What did you do?" he asks, lips twitching up into a hesitant smile.

"Most worthwhile places are closed at this hour, as you know, so I couldn't find much but..." He snags the bag from where he'd laid it by the bed before moving Ricardo, and drags it over to them.

The look on Ricardo's face as he pulls out two bottles makes it all worth it. "You- you bought me milk?" he demands, lips twitching into a larger, more sincere smile.

"Si," Alberto nods. It was originally to be champagne, in a fancy restaurant that he'd reserved especially for them tonight, but he thinks he likes this almost as well, the only sticking point being the tightness of pain around the younger man's eyes and the cast on his leg, much less the horribly fresh memories at the forefront in both men's minds.

Even so, he smiles as Ricardo takes one from him and sips from it carefully. Alberto had suggested he eat something after getting out of the ER, but the poor ring announcer was still queasy from pain, each movement making him whimper and bite his knuckle to keep from screaming again, so Del Rio hadn't pushed it. He feels moderately better seeing the younger man getting even that small bit of nourishment down.

"Gracias, El Patron," he whispers after a few moments, eyes lost once more in the stars.

Alberto sighs, running soft circles along Ricardo's chest with gentle fingers. "De nada." They're still sitting there, each's presence easing the other's torment little by little, when Alberto presses a faint kiss to Ricardo's temple. "I have a question for you. Two actually," he corrects himself.

"Oh. Que?" Ricardo shifts his own hand up and interlaces it with Alberto's, squeezing softly.

"When you're in less pain... may I be the first to sign your cast?" He almost hates asking this, not wanting to remind the poor ring announcer about the horrors of hours past, but he knows that completely ignoring it for the next few weeks will be impossible, and this question seems like a good way to ease it into what their reality will be for awhile.

Ricardo does stiffen, his eyes closed, but finally he lifts Del Rio's hand and kisses it slowly, laying it back down against his chest after a few moments. "Si, of course." Alberto smiles sadly, allowing the silence to continue as they stare outside, drawn in by the peaceful night sky once more. "Your second question, El Patron?"

Alberto shrugs slightly and lifts his mostly untouched milk bottle, holding it so Ricardo can also see it. "Is milk still an aphrodisiac?"

The ring announcer freezes, remembering ages ago when he'd said as much to his employer. "Ay dios mio," he mumbles. The laughter that follows these words eases Alberto's sadness as he holds Ricardo closer to him, laughing alongside him.

"Happy six month anniversary," he whispers once they calm down, Ricardo squeezing his hand in response. "I love you so much."

"Happy anniversary," Ricardo echoes, his eyes lighting up. Despite it technically not being their day anymore, and the sharp pains stabbing up his leg if he moves even the slightest, it's still the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. "I love you more."

"I don't think that's possible."

"I'm pretty sure it is."

"Si?"

"Si."

"Hm." Alberto grins fondly before tilting his head against Ricardo's. The evening might not have gone the way either of them had planned or wanted but this, right now, with them together watching the stars, just feels right.


	2. Choice

Ricardo is still a grinning, babbling mess of excitement after he wins his match against Colter and Big E., Alberto's arm warm around his shoulders as he reflects on finally succeeding at something for his employer, barely paying attention to his surroundings as they wander back towards the locker rooms. "This has been a fantastic day," he says, clinging to Alberto's sleeve. "I get the boot off finally, and now winning that match for you... I'm so happy, El Patron."

"Me too, Ricardo," he breathes out, grinning down at his ecstatic ring announcer. They walk quickly through the hallway, Alberto in a hurry to get away from all of the people still wandering around, when he realizes he just can't wait any longer. It's quiet here, this portion of the building used more for storage, and... Ricardo gasps slightly as he suddenly stops him and, gripping the collar of the Viva Del Rio shirt he'd worn for this match, holds him in place, staring him in the eye. "You did so well tonight."

Flushing, the ring announcer grins brighter. "I wanted to, for you, and-" His words are drowned out when Alberto kisses him, cupping his face and sighing against his lips. They lose themselves in the moment, barely even caring that they're where anyone can see them, and Del Rio guides him back until he's leaning against something set up by the wall, eyes closed as he presses against him. Ricardo hums and finally brushes his hands against his shoulders, breathing heavily while the Mexican aristocrat lingers, not wanting this to end. "El Patron," he finally gets enough space to say. "We're... we're still in the hallway."

Alberto shrugs, smiling against his lips for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. "Ay, Ricardo," he shakes his head, brushing some of the hair out of his eyes before leaning down to look him in the face. "When have I ever cared what others thought?" Smirking, he kisses him again, stablizing himself by reaching behind Ricardo and tangling his fingers against something cold, steel, and...

Finally distracted by the feel of the unbending item, he pulls back slightly and looks up, blinking in surprise when he finds that he'd sandwiched Ricardo against a ladder, a small smirk taking over his lips. "Hm," he hums, gaining the ring announcer's curiosity. As he looks up at the weapon his back is still pressed against, Alberto's fingers crawl teasingly up his bare wrist, miming the motions of climbing up rungs.

Their eyes lock and Ricardo's smirk grows to match Del Rio's. "Ladders," they both say together, looking up at the tall device stretching above their heads, menacing in its ungiving strength. "I like it," the ring announcer says after a moment, laughing when Alberto kisses him once more, thoroughly pleased with the decision.

"So do I," he hums, leaning his forehead against Ricardo's. "And it's only possible thanks to you." He winks at the happily blushing ring announcer and grips his hand, pulling him away from the ladder. "Come, let's go prepare for that match against Cesaro, and then we can announce my decision to the rest of the world." Ricardo grins and nods, following his employer through the halls to do just that.


	3. Loss

Alberto sprawls outside of the ring, his title belt now gone, surrounded by trainers and Ricardo, who are all worried about the status of his knee, his ankle. He had fought so hard, but the fresh Dolph had been too much for him, hitting a zigzag and taking the belt while his ring announcer stared on, numb and in disbelief. It had all slipped through their fingers so quickly, it had all gone so wrong.

Alberto alternates between reaching for his knee and reaching for Ricardo, who is right there, always right there, gripping his hands and staring at him in terror. He'd always hated to see him hurt, but now, hurt _and_ defeated, left with nothing but the knowledge that he'd lost his title belt... "El Patron," the ring announcer whispers, his voice wavering as Del Rio struggles against the pain, his spat words echoing the ring announcer's own from the week following _his_ ankle injury. "Let them help," he continues, eyes welling with tears. "Por favor, El Patron-"

He finally gives in, never able to deny his ring announcer when he sounds like that, dropping back and hitting his head against the padded barricade wall, but Ricardo supports him, pressing his hands on either side of his face. "Ricardo," he finally chokes out, shakes his head against his palms. "Por que..." His weariness breaks the ring announcer and, not even caring about all of the audience members staring down at them, he leans closer and presses his forehead to Alberto's, trying to comfort him.

"Shhh, shhh, it's- it's going to be ok, El Patron," he chokes out, unable to fathom how quickly everything had changed. They'd been on top of the world barely twenty four hours ago, and now... now. He clings to his employer's hands, staring deeply into his eyes. "It'll... be ok. I'm, I'm here."

"Gracias," he whispers, closing his eyes as the trainer prods his knee once more. "Ay!" he bites his lip, struggling once more against the stab of fresh pain, the only thing keeping him from flailing being Ricardo's hands on him. He grunts as the trainer helps him stand a few moments later, referees picking up the slack in assisting him to walk forward, Ricardo hobbling along after them with one crutch, leaving his other hand free to touch Alberto's shoulder, offer even that little bit of comfort and support.

As his knee is worked on, iced, bandaged, Ricardo sits with him, holding his hand quietly, his sadness growing with each gasp and grunt of pain that Alberto makes. When he's finally allowed to leave, the ring announcer has no thought for his own discomfort stemming from his still healing ankle and helps him to the car, easing him onto the back seat and using a folded blanket to lift his leg up, try to reduce the swelling in his knee until they can get to the hotel and settle him for real with painkillers and ice until he falls asleep. Not a word is spoken as Ricardo drives for the first time since his ankle injury, fighting to focus on the road even as Alberto breathes painfully behind him, the abrupt loss of the night hanging between them like a physical presence.

A bellhop, thankfully, is nearby as they enter the hotel and helps Ricardo support Alberto when they hobble through the hotel lobby, even accompanying them to the elevator and up to their room, holding onto Alberto as Ricardo fumbles through blurry vision with the hotel key, his emotions welling to the surface yet again as some of the responsibility of getting Alberto into their room safely falls from his shoulders. Del Rio reaches out, resting his hand on top of the ring announcer's, and squeezes softly. "It's ok, Ricardo. It's ok." He sniffs and nods, the older man's voice grounding him, before he finally gets the card into the door, it flashing green to allow them entrance.

From there, he takes over for the wide eyed bellhop, curling his arm around Alberto's shoulders as he leads his employer into the hotel room. "I can take it from here," he tells the teenager. "Gracias." He makes a note to find out who he is before they leave and give him a decent tip for his assistance, when each step- each thought- isn't as painful, both of them exhausted and struggling through this loss. "Come, El Patron," he breathes, helping him the rest of the way over to the bed and settling him down in the plush sheets. He quickly pulls his bad leg up, cushioning it on one of the pillows, pausing for a moment as he remembers when Alberto had done the same for him and his ankle, shaking his head against a fresh wave of tears as his hands rest on his inflamed knee. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," he murmurs back, staring at his ring announcer tiredly. "Ricardo... stop," he beseeches as the younger man fusses more over his knee. "Come here, por favor." He holds his arms out to the miserable man, lips twitching painfully as he sniffs and walks over to him, resting on the edge of the bed. "Come here..." Ricardo scrubs at his face before burrowing into his embrace, digging his fingers into Alberto's shirt. "We're going to be ok. We will." He leans back as the ring announcer nods, kissing him on the nose before following it up with one to the lips, neither of them in any hurry to separate.

They lay like that for awhile, Del Rio's fingers resting in Ricardo's hair, idly stroking his forehead as they both try to accept the evening's horrible ending, how quickly and cruelly the title had been pulled from him, when the ring announcer pulls away, staring up at him tiredly. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep tonight, El Patron?" he asks, eyes still gleaming with sadness and worry as he takes in the exhaustion in his employer's gaze.

"I don't know," he admits lowly, lips twitching slightly when, a moment later, the ring announcer nuzzles closer to him, wrapping his fingers around Alberto's. "That might help," he mumbles, turning to bury his face in his ring announcer's neck. "Don't let go."

"I won't," Ricardo promises, running the fingers of his free hand through the older man's hair. "Never." He smiles slightly when he feels his employer smile too, pressing a soft kiss to the ring announcer's throat before slowly relaxing, sleep eventually overwhelming the stubborn man. "There you go," he whispers, shifting their positions on the bed so they're both more comfortable. He sighs, closing his eyes as his fingers slow against Alberto's scalp. "You're right... Everything'll be ok, El Patron," he murmurs before giving completely into his own need for rest, smile still on his lips.

And it is, until Alberto wakes up to sun shining through the drapes, pulling him back to consciousness and he finds himself reaching out for someone's who not there- the bed is empty next to him, and he frowns, squinting around the room. "Ricardo?" No answer and his heart skips a beat. "Ricardo?!" He sits up hurriedly and looks around, it all crashing down around him: the ring announcer is gone somewhere, he's titleless, and his knee is tight and hot with pain. He struggles to breathe, think, and eventually spots his phone. Diving for the bedside table, he's just brushed it with his fingers when his knee spasms and he gasps, accidentally knocking the cell aside, sending it to the edge of the surface. It wavers there for a moment before crashing to the floor, even further out of his reach than before. "No, no, no," he mutters, needing to get his hands on the item, call Ricardo. "Por favor..."

His knee is still burning white hot pain but all he can think about is Ricardo, where he might've gone and why. The phone laying on the floor taunts him; he knows standing up while his knee feels like this is a bad idea, not needing to collapse and knock himself out while he needs to locate Ricardo, hear his voice once more, know that this isn't what he thinks it is. That JBL's disgusting words aren't somehow coming true. Not that he'd thought such things were possible, but he had never thought he could lose the title so suddenly either. He's already hanging off of the side of the bed just from trying to get the phone in the first place, and he inches closer to it, his knee stabbing pain up his leg with every movement, gasps of pain filling the air as he continues to struggle. He thinks he'll either grab it on the next movement or fall clear off of the bed when...

The door clicks from behind him and his breath stutters out of him as he freezes. He can see under the bed from this angle, watching as the wooden barrier just visible from here inches open, a black shoe entering first, followed by the sadly familiar grey ankle boot that his ring announcer had had to wear for the past few weeks. He's speechless, unable to do anything but watch as Ricardo walks further into the room, the moment it all registers with him clear as a bucket drops from his hands, tipping and scattering half of its contents- ice- across the floor. "El Patron!" the younger man cries out, everything, including his ankle, forgotten as he rushes around the bed faster than Del Rio's seen him move since that horrible night that Swagger had gotten his hands on him, skidding to his knees in front of his employer and gripping his shoulders, pulling him up until they're eye to eye. As soon as he sees that he's conscious, he shakes his head, tears forming in _his_ eyes. "What happened?!" he demands, lips trembling while he works to get traction, push Alberto back up onto the bed.

Del Rio waits until he's settled once more against the pillows, watching as Ricardo gapes at him, scrambling to sit next to him on the bed. "I... woke up and you were gone," he mumbles, feeling weak and pathetic even as he sees the look on the ring announcer's face shift, become guilt-stricken. "I... I thought..." He shakes his head, the thoughts that had been running through his head seeming ridiculous and beyond pointless now, especially as he stares up into the younger man's eyes, feels his warmth against his side. "I don't know why, but... JBL's words... For an insane moment, all I could think was you were gone, and maybe... maybe he was right..."

Pain and guilt warring on the ring announcer's face, he cups Del Rio's jaw and shakes his head, rubbing circles in his skin. "Never, El Patron. I would never leave you. I just... I woke up and thought perhaps I should get fresh ice, for your knee, so you wouldn't be in pain when you woke up. I'm sorry, I considered waiting until you woke up so you wouldn't worry, I never thought-"

Alberto's heart sinks as he feels even worse for doubting the always loyal, unfailingly dependable young man staring back at him, and shakes his head. "No, no, you shouldn't be the one apologizing," he breathes out, grimacing. "I should be. Why I would ever consider, even for a second, that... I'm so, so sorry, Ricardo-" he's just said when the ring announcer leans forward, kissing him desperately, lingering until his apologetic mumbles fade into nothingness.

"It's ok, it's ok," he breathes, pulling back and cradling his employer's face, tears welling in his eyes. "El Patron, do you- remember when I was in the hospital following the brogue kick?" Alberto nods, visibly confused, and Ricardo sniffs. "That morning I woke up and you had gone to talk to Otunga- you came back and I was freaking out so badly that nurses were about to sedate me until you scared them off?" He smiles a little through the tears, stroking trembling fingers down the older man's jaw. "For awhile, I thought you left me there. I thought... I'd never see you again. I was, was in pain, and confused and..." He sighs, leaning in and catching him in another kiss, shorter this time but no less needy. "But you came back. And everything was ok again."

Alberto stares at him in compassion, slowly shaking his head. "Lo siento, Ricardo... I put you through so much, it's no surprise you thought that I was capable of doing that... But I don't understand- what that has to do with-"

"I've doubted you in the past as well," he whispers, eyes dark with sadness as he rests his head against his employer's, breath tickling against his throat. "So you thinking I left this morning, I don't... I don't need an apology from you, I understand what you were thinking, how it felt. I-"

"No, no," Alberto exclaims, shaking his head as he realizes why the younger man is being overly understanding, as usual. "The two situations are so different, Ricardo. They _are,_ " he insists when the ring announcer looks at him hesitantly. "In the hospital, you had _every_ reason for thinking me capable of such things. We were... I was far from anything close to the friend you deserved in those days, much less more than that. Here, today, I thought so stupidly despite our having been in a relationship for almost seven months now. It is so disrespectful of the man you are, of what we have. I can't possibly apologize enough-" Ricardo once more cuts his apology off, kissing him slowly, softly... smiling against his lips as Del Rio clings to him, warring between enjoying this and growing annoyed that he can't even say _I'm sorry_ without the ring announcer interrupting. "What was that for?" he mumbles once the ring announcer pulls back slightly, barely an inch of space between them as he stares at him, slightly dazed.

"It just humbles me that you still keep count of how long we've been together," he smiles, resting a hand on his employer's chest. "You haven't missed one month anniversary yet. And it's things like that," he explains softly, eyes locked with Alberto's, "that helps me put everything else in perspective, El Patron. Because even the man who unfailingly marks each passing month is entitled to being _human_ sometimes. Especially after a horrible night like last night. Alright?" When Alberto nods, Ricardo smiles faintly, his fingers trailing circles in the older man's skin. "Alright. I have to go clean the ice up... but I'm only going to be right over there, si? I'm not going to leave your sight again, I swear."

Alberto nods and watches quietly as he scoots off of the bed and scoops up the ice, hurriedly getting rid of what had touched the floor in the bathroom sink before returning to the main room with a towel, setting the bucket on the table by the doors. He quickly packs together some ice into the soft fabric and returns to Alberto's side, pressing it against his knee after tossing aside the old icepack. "How's that feel?" he asks, adjusting the ice time and again, trying to make it sit perfectly against his skin to help ease the swelling and pain that remains.

"Fine," Del Rio whispers. As if not aware of what he'd just said, the ring announcer continues to shift it around, fussing endlessly as his employer watches him with a faint smile. "Ricardo- it feels fine as it is. Come up here, por favor?" He immediately loses interest in the ice pack, turning to find his employer watching him, arm reached out to him.

"Oh, si, El Patron," he breathes, scrambling up the bed and smiling as Alberto hooks his arm around him, dragging him down until he's laying next to him, curling up against his side and resting his head on his shoulder. "Are you sure the ice pack is ok? Maybe I should..."

"No, it's fine. Stay, por favor." When Ricardo gives in and nods, snuggling closer, Alberto sighs and trails his hand up and down the younger man's back. Although the loss of his title is stinging almost as painfully as his knee, Ricardo's warmth is steady against his side, his breath soft against his throat, fingers softly circling across his chest in time with Alberto's own touch, and, as he looks down at the younger man, he smiles, the rest becoming irrelevant, even if for just this moment.


	4. New Experiences

_This email is to notify you to changes made to the card for Main Event..._

Alberto Del Rio huffs at the email sent to him from WWE, alerting him just before he'd planned on getting ready to leave for the arena that his tag match with The Miz vs Big E. and Wade Barrett had been canceled. "Idiotas," he breathes, frowning at the unexpected free time that he suddenly is finding himself with. "Ricardo," he says, deciding to try to make the best of it. "I just received..." His words die away as he takes in the startled look on his ring announcer's face while he stares at _his_ phone. "Is something the matter?" Suddenly worried, he walks over to the other man and rests a hand on his shoulder, startling him. "Lo siento! Ricardo, are you alright?"

"Oh, El Patron! No, no, everything's fine," he says, shaking his head with a hesitant smile. "I just... received an odd email from WWE," he explains. "What- what were you trying to say to me?"

"I received an email from WWE too," he answers, frowning at the look on Ricardo's face. "Trade?" When the ring announcer nods, handing his phone over and receiving Alberto's, they read each other's screens quietly. "Huh," he mutters. "Commentary?"

"Si," he says, distracted as he frowns down at Del Rio's phone. "I'm sorry your match was canceled, El Patron." He glances at the clock and blinks, murmuring to himself before reaching out for his own phone. "Ay dios mio, if I'm going to arrive at the arena in time, I should get ready now!" Alberto blinks and takes his phone back, holding Ricardo's out to him before he dashes for the bathroom. At the doorway, he pauses and looks back at his employer, uncertain. "Um, do you wish to come with me tonight? I- I know you don't have a match, but..."

Del Rio stares at him for a moment before turning to sit at the desk, shuffling some papers on there into some semblance of order. "No, I believe I will stay here tonight, organize our schedule for the next week."

Ricardo blinks. "Oh. Ok." Disappointment and uncertainty warring within him, he hesitantly enters the bathroom to get ready to go, alone. Once in his tux and done working his hair over, he ventures out of the bathroom and looks at his employer, swallowing. "Um, alright, El Patron, I'm going." Alberto says nothing, still pouring over the pages, and Ricardo's face falls further. He takes a breath and walks over to him, burying his fingers in the older man's hair before pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. "I'll be back in about an hour." Receiving no response from him again, Ricardo pulls away painfully and turns to the door, each step heavy as he dwells on Del Rio's slight due to this strange new stage in his WWE career. He glances over his shoulder, fighting not to just run back into the room and refuse to go, give up this opportunity, when the Mexican aristocrat once more doesn't acknowledge him.

It takes a few minutes for the silence following the loud click of the door shutting to register with the stubborn man but eventually his eyes move upwards, taking in the quiet, empty room. Alberto frowns, brows furrowing even as he leans back over the pages scattered around the desk. Unable to focus, he sweeps an arm across the surface, sending the pages to the floor in a fluttery mess. Pressing a hand to his face, he shakes his head, hating how everything feels so _wrong_ right now.

Finally he makes it to his feet and wanders over to the bed, slumping down on the sheets next to one of Ricardo's abandoned shirts, smiling half-heartedly at it. His eye catches sight of the clock then, lips twisting into a frown as he realizes Main Event is starting in a few minutes. He can picture his ring announcer sitting at the commentary table next to Josh Mathews and The Miz, his hands twisting nervously as they wait for the cue. "Ay dios mio, why am I here?" he wonders, suddenly feeling guilty for leaving the horribly anxious man to face this unexpected situation all on his own. _Because I am a fool, pitching a fit due to my match being canceled last moment, while Ricardo is given something to do._ He sighs. "Ricardo..."

Grabbing the remote, he turns the TV on and settles in against the pillows to watch, face brightening when his ring announcer is shown, smiling into the camera and fussing with his bowtie as Miz introduces him. Most of the commentary is dominated by Mike and Josh, Ricardo speaking up when asked questions of or sometimes interjecting during the matches, Alberto grinning when the younger man starts rambling in Spanish in his excitement, his unquenchable enjoyment of the business even after everything he'd endured shining through. When the show ends, he clicks the TV back off and returns to the desk by the doors to wait for Ricardo, to make his earlier stupidity right as soon as he returns.

He hears his ring announcer at the door a little bit later, his voice just audible through the door as Alberto gets to his feet to greet the younger man. "Gracias, Miz," he says, the door beeping as he pushes it open. He doesn't seem to notice Del Rio, his eyes cast on the ground while he pushes the door shut behind him, walking past him quietly and slumping down on the edge of bed, staring blankly at his bowtie crushed in his fist, as Alberto watches him, troubled and guilty.

"Ricardo," he breathes, heart wrenching at the look on what of his face he can see. He rushes over to him and kneels down in front of him, hands warm and steady on his knees. "Lo siento, lo siento. I should've gone with you, please... don't look so sad, I was being a brat because of my match getting canceled last moment. I'll be with you next week. Everything will be-" But the ring announcer is shaking his head, sniffing slightly, and Alberto cuts himself off. "What?"

"It's not you, entirely," he mumbles. "I doubt there'll _be_ a next week." He finally looks up and smiles painfully, his breath stuttering out of him. "I messed up so badly. I just... I rambled in Spanish, annoyed Josh, and- I didn't add anything important to the show, I answered all of Josh's questions so stupidly. Miz is probably regretting that he selected me now." He twists his hands together until Alberto seizes them, rubbing them together briskly before bringing them to his lips in a comforting kiss.

"No, no, Ricardo. I watched, and considering everything, you did fine." Seeing lingering doubts in the young man's eyes, Alberto sighs. "Oh Ricardo." He strokes his knuckles and smiles sadly. "Listen, it was your first week. On top of that, not only were you probably still off-balance from my... moment of thoughtless stupidity earlier, you've... never had much of a chance to speak very often in the WWE. Part of that is my fault, I should've encouraged you, ensured your confidence in circumstances like this. The way Mathews kept throwing questions at you, anyone would've been flustered." He shifts, moving to sit next to Ricardo, and wraps an arm around him, drawing him nearer to lean against him. "As for Miz, choosing you was the best decision he's made in his whole career. You probably just need time to adjust to this role. It'll be fine, no matter what happens. I'm just proud of you for even trying this, considering how last minute it was thrown into your lap."

Ricardo wipes at his face and looks at him, smiling wanly. "Really, El Patron?"

"Of course." He smiles back at him and cups his jaw, kissing the top of his head as he'd done to him earlier, and pulls back, brushing at his cheeks. "You're one of the strongest people I know. No matter what happens, you always get back on your feet and try and try and try again. It's beyond commendable."

"Gracias." Ricardo's smile still looks sad and Alberto's heart hurts to look at him.

He leans closer and smiles down at him, shaking his head. "Whatever you decide, Ricardo, I'll be by your side from here on out. I promise." He kisses him, still apologetic and gentle, only holding onto him tighter, the kiss subtly more intense, when Ricardo nods, his smile becoming somewhat happier.


	5. Paths

Alberto Del Rio loses himself again, for awhile. In late November and December, he all but forgets his vow to ensure Ricardo Rodriguez' happiness, to be the man the ring announcer deserves. Losses to Sheamus and Orton both had left him angry and bitter, meaningless wins against various nobodies in the company afterwards doing little to ease his inner turmoil of a destiny out of reach. Rosa Mendes proves to be a bit of a distraction, his saving her from Hornswoggle's taunts leading him into a pathetic, temporary feud against Khali which, really, is in no way going to go anywhere. It definitely doesn't get him a place on the TLC card, but it causes him more problems than that.

The locker room is abuzz with rumors of what the true relationship between he and Rosa may be, some speculating that they'd secretly been an item for years, and others deducing that she's come between he and Ricardo, his relationship with the younger man guessed and speculated about long before Alberto himself had realized his true feelings for the ring announcer, the potential there visible to many others before he'd even accepted how Ricardo had felt for him. He thinks nothing of the Rosa rumors, rolling his eyes each time he overhears a whisper about it, until one Raw he approaches the locker room to find the younger man standing outside of the doorway, listening to a conversation being held inside. He looks like he's been slapped, his eyes wide and wet, hands twisting together in front of him.

Alberto ventures closer, catching what Ricardo's hearing as well, voices that sound like Titus O'Neil and Darren Young going back and forth about how eventually Del Rio will leave the ring announcer in the dust, firing him and replacing him with Rosa as his valet. Another rumor that he'd brush off and laugh in the face of those dumb enough to buy into it under normal circumstances, but it's put that look on Ricardo's face, and he finds himself disgusted by it and the entire situation. He walks up behind Ricardo and wraps his arms around him, cupping his jaw and tilting his face back to rest against his shoulder until he can lean over and kiss that look out of the younger man's eyes, pulling away enough to murmur, "Don't listen to the stupidity, Ricardo. I would never do that to you." As he nods, Alberto kisses him again for a moment before reaching out and taking his hand. "Come, we have something to do."

There's still pain and uncertainty in the younger man's eyes, which only grows as Alberto sits down at a desk in an empty office and motions him to sit next to him, finding looseleaf paper and a pen, sprawling it out on the wood in front of them. "Wha- what are we doing, El Patron?" he stammers, automatically gripping the sturdy plastic of the pen in one fist, fiddling anxiously with it.

"I want you to write a letter for me," the Mexican aristocrat says quietly, glancing down at his fingers solemnly. "You speak- and spell- English much more fluid than I, after all." Ricardo swallows and leans closer, pen to paper, while waiting for Del Rio to begin dictating what he wishes the letter to say. "Dear Rosa," he says, holding himself carefully so as not to react when Ricardo tenses, his eyes filling with tears. He sniffs and writes it down quickly, waiting for the rest. "I am sure you've heard the locker room rumors as I have. There is no doubt," he says quietly, eyes locked on what of Ricardo's face that he can see, "that you are a beautiful woman, and deserve an equally as impressive man by your side. So that there's no confusion between us, that won't be me, however- I already have the love that I've always desired." Ricardo scratches this out painstakingly, his each breath harsh, before the words sink in, looking over at his employer, lips parting in surprise. Alberto smiles, leaning over to rest a hand on the younger man's head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "Don't lose hope, Rosa, it's out there, waiting for when you least expect it... at least that's what I've learned. Best wishes, Alberto," he murmurs against his ring announcer's skin, smiling as the last sentences are written, Ricardo's eyes fluttering at Del Rio's proximity.

"You-" he starts to murmur, words cut off when Alberto shifts and kisses him long and slow, drawing him closer with steadying hands. Head spinning when they finally pull away, still nose to nose, he stares up at his employer. "You mean it? You... choose me? Over her...?"

Alberto sighs, shaking his head quickly. "There was never a choice to be made, Ricardo." He stares back at him, taking in every fleck of color in his eyes, his smile growing. "It was always just you." The ring announcer sniffs softly, Del Rio wiping his tears away with gentle fingertips, before kissing his employer deeply in response.

But although things between them stabilize after Del Rio has Ricardo personally deliver the letter during the Colons' match that evening so he can see for himself how serious Alberto is about reassuring him, Rosa's awed reaction from the missive contenting the ring announcer as she turns her attention away from Del Rio, the fact that he has no match for TLC continues to eat away at him, leaving him snappish and sleep deprived, even Ricardo's soft whispers and continued faith not enough to ease the disgust eating at Alberto, in the situation and in himself.

Two days before the PPV, he has yet another nothing match, which he wins with yet another armbar, his anger growing at how pointless all of these matches are. Ricardo applauds him, as he always does, but it's the moment that the ring announcer reaches out for his hand to raise it in victory that the disgust explodes within him and he can't stand it, knowing that a nothing match like that doesn't deserve Ricardo's praise. Wrenching his hand away, he barely notes the hurt in the younger man's eyes as he turns and roughly orders the referee to do it instead, glaring out into the crowd as this is done. He's unaware of the look on Ricardo's face as he continues to stand behind him, clapping numbly until Del Rio turns to leave the ring.

He's unaware of a lot of things until he gets out of the bathroom later that night, expecting Ricardo to be waiting to get ready for bed after him as he always is, just to find the ring announcer curled up with his back to Alberto's side of the bed, silent and unresponsive as Alberto shuts the light off, sinks into the sheets and stares over at him uncertainly, slowly realizing that something's wrong. Growing uncomfortable with the utterly uncharacteristic silence, he rolls over and gingerly wraps an arm around the younger man, pulling him closer. Ricardo still doesn't react and he frowns, nuzzling closer to him. "Hey... is something wrong?" he breathes against his back, blinking as the ring announcer trembles against him. "Hey..." It's not until he reaches out for Ricardo's hand, only just getting ahold of it when it's pulled sharply away from his fingers, that it clicks with him. The moment in the ring, which he hadn't bothered to explain... how it must've seemed to Ricardo this whole time. He gapes at the back of his head for a long time, swallowing convulsively, before he grips his shoulder and rolls him onto his back, all fight now gone from the ring announcer as he lays there and stares blankly at the ceiling, tears filling his eyes. "Oh, Ricardo, no, no... Lo siento," he whispers, hovering over him as he takes in the pain pouring from his expression, wiping the moisture from his cheek with shaking fingers.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he chokes out. "I just wanted to... celebrate your victory with you, I should've known-" He struggles to brush past him, free himself from Del Rio's hold. "I don't want to disrupt your rest, I'll- I'll go... sleep on the couch..." But the more he tries to leave, the harder Alberto clings to him.

"Stop, stop," he whispers. "You don't need to apologize. Nor do you need to sleep on the couch." He squeezes him, leaning down until they're eye to eye. "It wasn't you, Ricardo. It was me..." He sighs. "I felt... undeserving of you raising my hand in victory, that's the only reason I rejected you. I should've... explained... handled it better... but I was so angry. I was so bitter. I wasn't thinking. Please forgive me."

Ricardo sniffs, staring up at him, and Alberto sighs, gently sliding his fingers along his hand before cupping it in his palm, lifting it to his lips in a faint kiss along his knuckles, his fingertips. "Really?"

"Si, si." He trails his lips against his palm, tickling him gently, before pulling away to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, Ricardo. It... it won't happen again." He normally doesn't make promises lightly, but after tonight... and everything that's been happening lately... he knows that what he says has to happen. He's tired of Ricardo being hurt because of him, certain that they won't last should it keep happening. _He deserves better... I will be better._

And he tries, through all of it- the foolish general managers putting Ricardo right in the path of Big Show, his World Title victory that is a consequence of that, all of the other attacks by and to the vengeful giant, Jack Swagger and Zeb Colter's vendetta following Royal Rumble, which culminates in Ricardo's ankle getting broken on their six month anniversary. Even as the crowd begins to support the deranged man with chants of USA! USA!, Alberto clings to being an honorable champion, knowing that Ricardo deserves someone he can be proud of. But when Ziggler takes the title from him, it all falls down around him as he struggles against his knee injury to find not an inch of sympathy on the faces of the crowd, all of them cheering and supporting the man in the ring now hanging onto _his_ World Heavyweight Championship.

Payback cements it, his eyes trailing around the crowd and... he realizes. He knows. Ricardo may be deserving of someone to be proud of, but these people, these perros, do not. They support cowards and xenophobic monsters willing to break bones and spirits to get what they want, and he wants nothing to do with them. One last glance at Ricardo and he hopes that this will not change the ring announcer's perspective towards him as he turns his ruthless attention to Ziggler, kicking him again... and again... and again, uncaring about his just recovered concussion, his anything, as he takes him down and finally- finally... the pin comes, the three count rattles through him, and...

Del Rio holds his freshly regained World title up to a chorus of boos from the audience, his eyes glinting even as Ricardo rushes towards him, hugging him tightly as he has for each of his title wins in the past. Del Rio hugs him back, one hand on the cool surface of his title even as he clings to the younger man with the other.

"Congratulations, El Patron!" he exclaims, cupping the back of his off-balanced employer's head as he presses his nose against his temple, breathing heavily while he's sandwiched against the ropes and Alberto, the older man now trying to stabilize them both with a hand against the top rope, still holding onto his freshly regained title belt. "I- I knew you could do it," he breathes, smiling up at him as he stares at him, both of them wishing for this moment that they weren't in front of so many people.

"You- you're ok with this? _We're_ ok?" he asks, thinking about that night back in December, when Ricardo had looked so broken and Alberto had vowed never to put that look in the younger man's eyes again. Giving in to his more base, aggressive nature had felt _so_ good, but if it should affect his relationship with the ring announcer... "I did what I had to-"

"Of course, of course," Ricardo grins at him, his warm fingers still cupping his face. "I know, I understand, El Patron. You- you don't need to explain. I'm just so happy for you." But the crowd isn't, which is fine, even though Alberto decides to give them one last chance, unsurprised when they boo him through his whole plea for support, Ricardo as always by his side.

Turning his back on them, he tugs the ring announcer backstage and, forgetting everything else, lifts his free hand to cup his face and kiss him slowly, happily. "Forget those perros, I'm still so happy," he breathes against Ricardo's lips, smiling. "I have you, I have this title belt... everything is perfect once more."

And although Ricardo's smile grows as he leans against his employer, his voice still steady and pleased as he whispers congratulations against his skin, there's something in his eye that Alberto notices, pulling away slowly. Ricardo looks confused for a moment before blinking up at him. "Is there something wrong, El Patron?"

"I didn't think so," he says, finger resting on his lips as he stares deep into his eyes, trying to decipher what he's thinking about. "But you... seem... almost sad, somehow. What's going on, Ricardo?"

"It, it's nothing-" But there's no give in Alberto's gaze and Ricardo knows he's not getting away without some sort of explanation. Unable to keep anything from the older Mexican, he lowers his gaze to the title belt. "I was just thinking... how it would feel if this, if you had won during, during the ladder match. If the match I had won for you had happened. If I had had a true hand in you winning back what you deserved." He rests his hand tentatively on the sparkling gold plate, tracing its intricate lines with solemn respect, unable to look his employer in the eye at this admission. "Lo siento, it's selfish, I should just be happy for you-"

Alberto sighs, cupping the ring announcer's face and making him look at him. "It's not selfish. Far from it, Ricardo. You worked hard to win me that match, and then it was all taken away by one stupid moment. But it's ok, because I wouldn't have made it this far without your support, your loyalty. Even when the fans wanted nothing to do with me, even when WWE itself lost faith in me, you have always been by my side. You've always been the only one I could truly depend on, no matter what." Leaning in, he kisses him gently. "Never doubt that."

Ricardo smiles, sighing against his lips as he relaxes, warm and comfortable in his employer's embrace while the weight of his title belt rests against his back, holding him in place. "Si, alright, El Patron."


	6. Fiesta

Alberto Del Rio watches from the audience, numb, as his ring announcer tries to work his way out of the shards of the table that had housed food and decorations, just to stumble right into a solid shot to his upper body and face with one of the abandoned guitars, hoisted by Dolph Ziggler with angry determination. "No, no," he mutters, eyes aflame at _his_ party getting ruined, how _still_ Ricardo is as Dolph gets out of the ring and the Mariachi band begins to play for him, only angering the Mexican aristocrat all the more. "Fools," he snaps, approaching the barrier as green and red balloons begin raining down upon the crowd.

Batting them away impatiently, he leaps back over the barricade as quickly as he'd done so just minutes ago to get away from his angered rival, unable to do anything but watch as his poor ring announcer suffered further injury due to him. He rolls into the ring and kneels down by Ricardo, hand on his shoulder. "Ricardo," he breathes, eyes darkening when the younger man doesn't respond to his presence even slightly. "Hey, hey, wake up." His worry only grows as this doesn't happen, looking up angrily when he realizes that no one's moving to the ring to assist the poor man. "Where's the trainer?! Get him over here _now!"_

He cups the younger man's face and stares down at him, growing more and more worried. Finally the trainer joins them, looking Ricardo over. Alberto hesitantly releases him to give the other man room, breathing harshly as he takes in a growing welt on the younger man's face from the impact of the guitar. "What's wrong with him?" he demands, once more resting his hand on his ring announcer, sharp, painful memories of the night that Sheamus brogue kicked him returning to him in a rush. "Why isn't he coming to?"

"He took a pretty solid hit," the trainer murmurs, waving his light over Ricardo's eyes again, reinforcing Del Rio's bad memories. "A couple of them, actually."

Alberto grimaces, painfully aware of _that_ fact. He returns to the ring announcer's side and runs a hand through his hair, not caring who's watching. "Ricardo, por favor, wake up," he pleads.

Something finally clicks, the younger man grunting and shifting under his touch, head going left to right under his fingers. "El... El Patron," he keens, groaning softly as the trainer once more flashes the light in his eyes.

"I'm here, I'm here. Take it easy," he sighs, relief flooding him. "Just breathe. You're going to be just fine, I promise."

"Hurts," he murmurs and Del Rio's anger towards Ziggler only grows. "El Patron... you're ok?"

"Of course I am," he whispers. "Better now, anyway." He rests his hand on his forehead and leans over once the trainer's backed off. "They have to move you to the back soon." Ricardo groans but nods, staring up at him with dark, fearful eyes. "You're gonna be fine." He glances around, relieved to find, with the show ending when his Fiesta did, the crowd had cleared out quickly and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Ricardo's lips. "I'll be right here."

"Gracias," he whispers, eyes fluttering as Del Rio lingers until the trainer approaches again, staring down at him comfortingly as he reluctantly moves away so they can prepare him. Ricardo hisses when they're finally ready to move him, shifting his sore body as they settle a bodyboard under him, not wanting him to walk and risk falling while still disoriented from all of the hits he'd taken. "El Patron?"

"I'm here," he whispers, leaning into the ring announcer's line of sight and squeezing his hands as they adjust straps around him, making sure he's secure before they shift him onto the stretcher waiting outside of the ring. Alberto's just moved to follow them when he steps on something, looking down to find a pile of candy from the destroyed pinata had scattered there in the melee. He sneers, about to leave it behind, when something catches his eye. On a whim, he scoops it up, pocketing it before rolling out of the ring to catch up to the stretcher.

After transferring him to a waiting cot in his office, the trainer bustles around and examines Ricardo, taking care to check his ankles and neck under Del Rio's watchful eye, the Mexican aristocrat sitting next to him and rubbing circles in his knuckles. By the time he's done, walking off to discuss the situation with the on-staff doctor, Alberto abandons the chair he'd been forced to sit in and gingerly settles onto the cot next to Ricardo, resting his head against his shoulder while running his hands through Ricardo's soft black hair. "How do you feel?"

"Better now." He smiles slightly as Alberto chuckles against his throat, his answer from earlier now being turned around on him. "El Patron..."

"Si?"

"I'm sorry your fiesta was ruined. I tried to make it perfect for you," he sighs, leaning into his employer as he kisses his jaw.

"You succeeded," Alberto smiles. "You've become quite good at planning my fiestas, I believe it's second nature for you by now. It's not your fault Ziggler ruined it so thoroughly." He strokes his face gently, trailing a kiss along his cheek. "I'm sorry you were hurt, but perhaps this will help?" He pulls the item he had found earlier from his pocket and rests it in Ricardo's palm, watching as his eyes light up a little.

"My favorite Mexican chocolate," he gasps, smiling down at it. Something that had been limited in production ages ago, he had been amazed when he'd found the _one_ place it'd still been stocked at- the company who filled the pinata, and had agreed to include some once they'd heard the Del Rio name. "You remembered."

"Si, of course," Del Rio says. "I was only able to find one in that mess..." His eyes darken in anger once more as he considers what Ziggler had done, shaking his head. He unwraps the candy carefully, holding it out to Ricardo. "Here, open up before it melts," he urges him, tapping the chocolate against his lips.

Ricardo stares at him, however, not moving to do so. "Wait, wait," he mutters. "Is there one for you? I wanted you to try it too..."

Alberto smiles at him affectionately. Hurt, his favorite candy just waiting for him, and still all he can think about is Alberto... "Don't worry about it, this is all yours. Here." Finally Ricardo opens his mouth enough to allow his employer to feed him the candy, closing his eyes against the nostalgically sweet taste. "Good?" he whispers, grinning when the ring announcer opens his eyes to answer, surprised to find his employer almost nose to nose with him. "Let's see."

Ricardo mumbles as Alberto kisses him, tasting some of the chocolate on his lips. He sighs as Alberto gently curls his fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, careful where he touches or how long he lingers, not wanting to hurt him further. When he finally pulls away, the ring announcer looks dazed, his lips still parted as Alberto sits up and smiles at him.

"What do you know," he says softly. "You're right, it is pretty good chocolate. We should order some more."

Ricardo blinks a few times, laughing wearily as he squeezes his employer's hand. Nearing a year now and the older man could still surprise him more often than not... "Si, we should."


	7. Gifts

December had been an annoying month. Ricardo is all too aware of this, wishing he could do something to make Alberto feel better. His concussion had been yet another blow after losing his title just to watch it be unified with the WWE title, leaving him with even less of a chance to regain it as Cena and Orton seem determined to lock up the opportunities for the title for the foreseeable future. Ricardo sighs and shakes his head, staring at his hands. "I perhaps can't help him get his title back anymore, but..." Ideas coming to him, he grabs his iPad and begins searching for something. "Maybe..."

After a few minutes, his eyes gleam. "There it is," he mutters, tapping the screen with a small smile. "I hope you'll like it, El Patron." Once he pays extra shipping to ensure that it'll arrive in time for Christmas, he sits back and grins, anxious for the holidays to come so he could see the look on Alberto's face when he sees his gift.

Ten days later, he wakes up in his former employer's arms on Christmas morning and he grins, snuggling closer to him. Alberto is doing better now, his headaches finally gone, and it almost as if there hadn't been a problem to begin with. Health-wise, anyway. He'd still been thrown by the loss of his title, and its ultimate unification. He would be cleared for competition in the next day or two and Ricardo hopes desperately that he'll be able to move past all of this and keep his head in the game enough to avoid any further injuries. Frowning at this thought, he leans up and kisses Del Rio's jaw, smirking when the Mexican aristocrat mumbles in Spanish, his arm tightening around the younger man's midsection. "Alberto," he sing-songs teasingly, shifting up to his mouth, where he hovers patiently.

He gasps when gravity shifts on him, Alberto flipping them so he's hovering over Ricardo, eyes dark in the half-lit room as he stares down at his ring announcer, now the one smirking as Ricardo gapes at him, laughing quietly. "Buenos Dias," he tells him quietly, kissing him.

"Buenos Dias... and Feliz Navidad, El Patron," he murmurs back, stroking his fingers through his hair. When his former employer tenses beneath his hand, he frowns. "Alberto? What's wrong?"

Del Rio grimaces, then shrugs. "Nothing, never mind." He kisses him again, distracting him briefly from the weird look in his eyes, how... guilty he looked for that split second.

Shaking that off, Ricardo pulls away after a few minutes and sits up, chuckling when Alberto holds onto him, not wanting to let him go. "I'll be right back," he promises. "I just need to get something." He lifts the older man's hand and kisses his palm, grinning when he squirms and slips away, allowing him to get out of bed. He runs his fingers through his sleep mussed hair and pads quietly out to the living room, where he stares up at the darkened tree, before smiling and digging through the presents under the tree until he finds his own to Alberto. When he returns, Alberto is leaning back against the headboard, his eyes immediately locking on the present in Ricardo's hands. "El Patron, I know it's early, but I really want to see your reaction to this..."

That strange look is back on Alberto's face again but he says nothing as he gingerly takes the box from Ricardo, sitting up to properly look at it as Ricardo turns the nearest lamp on to its lowest setting, both of them squinting against the light as their eyes adjust. The former ring announcer leans against his shoulder and beams down at the gift, Alberto releasing a faint breath as he tilts his head and kisses him on the temple before slowly pulling apart the wrapping paper. It seems to take forever and a split second all at the same time as he lays the paper aside and begins to work the box over, finally getting it open enough that he can peer at the contents inside. He gasps lowly before reaching into the cardboard and pulling out- his World title, or at least a very, very good replica of it.

Ricardo smiles slowly as he takes in every inch of the belt, giving him time to do so before he tries to explain. "I know it's not _your_ belt exactly, but I thought... maybe this would help, somehow. If not now, then someday, when you want to look at it and remember... the times you held it, and all that happened when you did."

Alberto looks up at him. "I wanted the World title for so long," he mumbles. "I fought and I fought and it took so long to finally get it that when I did, I almost couldn't believe it. Those were the best few months of my career, holding it alongside you, even during all of that mess with Swagger." His eyes rest on Ricardo's ankles and he sighs. "Then Ziggler happened and all I could think about was regaining it... and I almost lost you in the aftermath." He reaches forward and takes Ricardo's hand, squeezing his fingers. "But the longer I held the title, the more certain I was that it would always be mine. Thus when Cena took it away from me, it felt like I lost a piece of myself... which only hurt more when it was unified with the WWE title." Their eyes lock once more and he smiles wanly. "Between that and the concussion... this has been far from how I wanted 2013 to end, career-wise."

Ricardo nods, leaning closer to him. "I know, I'm so sorry. I wish I could do something..." He grows more troubled as Alberto continues to look grim, resting his hand on the title belt plate. "If this- this was a mistake, I... we can sell it, we can do whatever you want with it, just- please, I didn't mean to make you sad-"

Alberto shakes his head sharply. "No, no, Ricardo! Ay, it- it's not this, this is perfect, I'll treasure it, it's just... you went to all of this trouble and... I guess I'm trying to explain... between the mess with the title, and my concussion, I... I forgot about the holidays. I have nothing to give you in return." He sighs in aggravation, standing up to pace around a few moments, Ricardo's wide eyes locked on him. He spins back around and catches Ricardo's face in his hands, staring down at him. "I'll fix this, I promise. Por favor, forgive me-"

But his words die away when Ricardo chuckles, his eyes warm with affection for the other man. "There is nothing to forgive, El Patron," he whispers, leaning up on his knees so that they're eye to eye. "I understand, it's been a horrible month for you. I had all that I could ever want on a Christmas morning already, anyway, when I woke up in your arms. We're fine, so relax, por favor."

Alberto leans his forehead against Ricardo's, breathing in deeply. "Ay, you are too good of a man, I don't deserve you." Before Ricardo can say anything, he kisses him deeply, muffling his retort. By the time he moves away, smirking, the younger man's forgotten what he wanted to respond with anyway. Either way, when Alberto wakes him up the next morning with plane tickets to Europe for a trip to be taken at their earliest convenience, he's not too surprised.


	8. Down

Ricardo Rodriguez first hears the news late Saturday night, a couple divas passing by, giggling. "Did you see his face?" that new girl, Eva Marie, says, garish red hair sending Ricardo's eyes straight towards her before he looks away, a bit dazed.

"I'm sure Alberto deserved it," Nikki Bella chortles. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

"Yeah, I wonder what he did to deserve it though,. He's going to have a nice shiner for the PPV tomorrow," Eva Marie giggles again as she shuts the door decisively behind them, neither of them aware as Ricardo continues to gape after them, confused.

"Que?" Still mumbling to himself in Spanish, he pats his pockets in distress and foregoes returning to his own room, walking straight into a waiting elevator instead. It stops a few moments later on the fifth floor and Ricardo quickly walks down the hall to where Alberto had been booked, using the keycard he'd stored in his pocket when the lady behind the counter had told him Alberto had left it for him at his _own_ check in. Ricardo's never been more glad for this arrangement of theirs than right now as he quietly unlocks the door and enters, shutting it quickly behind him. He swallows and looks around, unsurprised to find the room dark and quiet but the bathroom light on, gleaming under a crack in the bottom of the door.

He takes a breath and walks over, quietly knocking before pushing it in slowly. His breath is taken from him as he looks into the room and finds Alberto sitting on the closed toilet, his face held in his hands. Heart skipping a beat or two, Ricardo ventures over to him. "El Patron?

"Ricardo," he says through his fingers. Ricardo immediately kneels down in front of him, trying to grip his hands and pry them away. "No," Del Rio mutters. "Don't-"

"El Patron, I want to make you feel better, and I can't do that if your hands are in the way," he says soothingly. "Come now..." Finally Alberto hesitantly moves his hands away and Ricardo releases a soft breath, tilting his face so he can look at his bruises a little clearer in the light. "Ay dios mio," he says softly, face falling as he strokes around the growing discoloration around the older man's eyes. "What happened?"

"Peasants," he spits angrily. "They-" he winces as Ricardo grazes the worst of the wounds with his fingers, immediately pulling away on a whispered apology. "They apparently didn't appreciate my wealth and..." He hisses, each word causing his face to hurt all the more. "Status." He stares at Ricardo as he slowly moves away and looks for the hotel bucket, missing his own much sturdier bucket which had been bent and destroyed to symbolize the ending of their working relationship on August 5th.

"I'll be right back," he whispers, hating having to leave as Alberto looks so uncharacteristically vulnerable, but knowing that he needs ice badly. Unfortunately, the ice machine is on the opposite side of their floor so he's gone _much_ longer than he likes, but Alberto hasn't moved when he returns so he quietly makes an ice pack and gently helps his former employer to bed before resting it on the worst of his bruises. "Are there any other injuries?" he wonders anxiously, moving to lift his former employer's shirt up to look.

Alberto stops him, however, smiling wanly. "No," he murmurs, hissing as the ice shifts against his throbbing jaw. "McIntyre ran them off before they could do much else."

"I'm glad he was there," Ricardo says, subdued at the thought of Alberto needing saved from anyone, how bad this all could've gone.

"Me too," Alberto hums tiredly, adjusting the ice with one hand and reaching for Ricardo with the other.

The ring announcer sandwiches his hand between both of his own and releases a hissing sigh, feeling more and more guilty the longer he stares at Alberto's face. "I wish I had-"

"No," Alberto immediately interrupts him. "I'm glad you were not, Ricardo. At least when I am the one targetting you, I can withhold a bit, these men..." He shakes his head. "I've already told you, I never want to see you hurt again."

Ricardo takes a breath. "But, El Patron, it hurts me when you're hurt."

Del Rio's eyes soften and he pulls Ricardo onto the bed, smiling when the younger man carefully curls up against him and rests his hand on his chest. "Ay, perhaps it'll help you to know, then, that I feel better already, now," he murmurs, kissing the top of Ricardo's head.

He smiles slightly and hums, trailing his hand in soothing circles against Alberto's warm skin. "I'm glad," he whispers as Alberto tilts his face up with a gentle hand and kisses his lips, the ice shifting between them and causing both men to shiver, chuckles following this as they lean against each other, Ricardo fussing with the ice pack to keep it in place, both relieved to be together once more, even if it's just for a short time.


	9. Clarification

It still hurts nearly a month in. Alberto Del Rio is still knocked breathless sometimes when he sees Ricardo Rodriguez with RVD, hating himself more and more whenever he has to insult or belittle the ring announcer to further other people's belief in their dissension. But Ricardo's association with RVD has had the affect Del Rio had hoped for- people were beginning to trust Ricardo, at least to the point that he hadn't been a target of attack or bullying like in the past when he was working for Alberto. It's a relief and makes all of the pain worth it- mostly.

But he's always had a bad temper and he knows as soon as he tells RVD that if he lays with dogs, he'll get fleas, that he's gone just a little too far. Ricardo's eyes dull a little, though he acts his part to perfection still for the duration of the segment. As soon as the segment ends, Alberto races to his locker room, expecting Ricardo to join him as he's done the last few times he was able to sneak in, but he sees no more of the younger man the rest of the show. His anxiety growing, he drives back to the hotel and, as always, leaves a keycard for his room at the front desk for Ricardo, but hours pass and nothing happens.

Fearing that that comment, after everything else, had been the last straw, Alberto leaves his room and goes looking for Ricardo, hoping that he'll find him alone and not surrounded by RVD and whoever else. But the hotel and its grounds are quiet, no one hanging around, much less the ring announcer. Alberto sighs and returns to his room, barely closing the door before his jaw drops as he spots the familiar form sitting at the bottom of his bed, head bowed. "...Ricardo?" he whispers.

The ring announcer says nothing, not even moving as Alberto enters the room and approaches him, frown growing as he receives no response. "Ricardo?"

"Don't get too close," he warns him lowly. "Wouldn't want you to get fleas because of me."

Alberto closes his eyes, grimacing. "Ricardo, por favor-"

"Don't por favor me," he says tiredly. "I suppose you think it's all part of the plan, insulting and- and saying whatever you want about me but... sometimes... you just... you go too far."

Alberto hisses, reaching out and cupping Ricardo's face, staring into his eyes. "I meant nothing by it. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, it slipped out before I could think about what I was saying. I am so sorry," he murmurs desperately. "Please, please. Forgive me."

Ricardo looks away when it all becomes too much for him to bear. "Don't you understand?" He stares at his interlaced fingers, wanting so badly to draw away from him, which is evident by the subtle twitches in his hands. "I understood your motivation behind firing me... I even endured the beatdown you insisted on to make it public knowledge."

Alberto nods, heart breaking at how, even now, weeks later, Ricardo's voice still trembles at the recollection of that night. "Si..."

"But quite a few people knew about our relationship," Ricardo whispers. "You make comments like that, it makes me sound diseased, or something... And suddenly those who know have a new kind of ammunition against me."

Alberto closes his eyes, understanding exactly what he means and feeling a whole new level of self-loathing as he considers just what those people would speculate after tonight. "Ay dios mio," he breathes out. "I didn't look at it that way. You know I am unaware of many of these American sayings and what all they could mean. It is no excuse, but I truly didn't mean it that way."

Ricardo does pull away then and Alberto's heart sinks. "I know," he whispers. "But... am I supposed to just pretend that all of these insults don't hurt? What about next time, when you say something even worse, and-"

Alberto cups his face again with gentle fingers, staring deep into his eyes. "Then you ignore those comments and remember these, si? I love you, and you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. You're the strongest, most intelligent, loyal, incredible person I've ever met, amazing inside and out, and if I ever do anything to lose you, I would never, ever forgive myself. _That_ is what I truly think of you."

Ricardo stares at him, his silence worrying Alberto until finally he breathes out, "Well, when you put it _that_ way..." He smiles wearily as Alberto brushes his fingers along Ricardo's face, pulling him close to kiss him deeply. "I love you too," he finally breathes out, leaning against him, his inner turmoil easing a bit at the sincerity in Alberto's words, the warmth behind his touch.


	10. Firsts

It has been well over a month since Alberto Del Rio had told Ricardo his thoughts, what he wanted to do to make the younger man happy again, give him a chance. And although it had nearly killed Alberto to hurt him then, and the few times after, it had worked. There was a gleam in Ricardo's eye again, Rob was, thankfully, a nice guy, _and_ , even better, the time apart made every moment they had together that much sweeter.

And so, when Alberto sees what date is drawing near and wonders what all they could possibly do that wouldn't destroy their plan, or everyone else believing they truly couldn't stand each other anymore, he ultimately decides to keep his plans based at the house, where they can be alone on their rare day off... simple but rewarding, just like Ricardo himself in so many ways.

Finally the week comes around and Alberto is relieved that neither of them are needed at Main Event, content to watch movies with Ricardo in his arms until late on Tuesday once they get home from the airport after the week's Raw. Eventually he falls asleep and Alberto grins down at him, carefully muting the TV to let him rest a couple more hours until midnight, when their first anniversary would begin. Swagger's actions had ruined their six month plans, but nothing would harm this day. Del Rio would make sure of that.

So, after resting with his ring announcer in his arms- because, yes, Ricardo may be RVD's ring announcer technically, but he's still Alberto's in every way that matters- Alberto leans over and kisses the top of his head, humming softly. "Ricardo," he whispers. "Mi valiente. It's time to wake up. Come now."

Sighing, the younger man stirs, finally opening his eyes and shifting a bit, yawning. "El Patron?"

Alberto smiles and kisses his brow. "Si, look at the time, Ricardo." He watches as the younger man blinks tiredly, glancing around before spotting the clock, his lips parting into a grin as he realizes that it reads 12:01 AM, September 25th.

"Oh," he breathes softly. "It's..."

"Si! A year ago today, I finally stopped being an idiota and confessed my feelings to you." He snuggles closer and smiles. "I remain unsure how you failed to give up on me long before that... I wouldn't have blamed you."

Ricardo shakes his head, smiling. "I love you too much for that to ever be possible, El Patron."

"I know the feeling," he whispers back, also smiling. They lay for awhile longer before Alberto notices Ricardo fighting to stay awake, his eyes softening as he strokes his arm. "Close your eyes, mi valiente. We have the whole day ahead of us, I have many things planned for us to do."

"It's gonna go by so quickly," he pouts, already half-asleep.

"Perhaps, but it's only the first of many, I promise you this." Alberto lightly kisses him, smiling as Ricardo kisses him back before giving into sleep, his lips still parted slightly when Alberto pulls away. "I love you, forever and ever," he tells him quietly, kissing him again before settling in to sleep as well, needing to be well rested to make the whole of their first anniversary perfection for the man currently nuzzling even closer in his arms, a sweet smile on his lips as he sleeps on peacefully.


	11. The End

Ricardo Rodriguez' suspension had seemed unending. His misery seeming to multiply daily only made Alberto's aggravation towards the whole situation hotter and hotter, until he'd felt like he could explode, helpless to make things better for the ring announcer. It wasn't helping much that, towards the end of it, no one in the business was giving them a straight answer about _when_ he could be cleared to begin traveling alongside Del Rio again. Some had said the 5th, others the 12th, and some even further out.

But finally word comes. The 5th would be the date he could return. All of Ricardo's pain doesn't just disappear as Del Rio had hoped, however, the ring announcer putting on a good show but Alberto seeing straight through it, of course. As the time approaches, Alberto considers letting things proceed as they are, but it just bleeds false to him, his need to see Ricardo happy again warring with wanting to keep him by his side forever. But the night before they're to resume making their way through the business together, Alberto lays long into the night, holding a deeply asleep Ricardo in his arms and he just _knows._

He can't be completely selfish any longer. And so he's not. He absorbs every moment of Ricardo sleeping snuggled against him, listening to him breathing and how warm he feels, how content he seems, smiling slightly. Once it's Ricardo's typical wake up time, he rolls over and presses kisses to his lips until he stirs, eyes fluttering. "El Patron?"

"Si," he whispers back. "It's time to wake up. We have things to discuss."

Ricardo hums and looks up at his employer, growing worried at his tone of voice. "Things to discuss? What?" he asks, trying to sit up but failing when Alberto holds onto him tighter. "El Patron," he breathes, eyes widening.

"Just listen for a bit," he beseeches the younger man. "I've been thinking since you were suspended..." Ricardo's breath stutters and Alberto closes his eyes, stroking his arm gently, knowing immediately the two things he must be worrying about most with a lead-in like that. Sadly, he's not far from correct, to Alberto's utter sadness. "I've been thinking about all you've been through, from the neck injuries, your ankle, and... everything in between." He rests his face against Ricardo's neck, needing a moment before facing his ring announcer once more, what his upcoming words will do to the younger man. "You must be tired of it as well, . And there's only one commonality for all of these." He strokes his fingers through Ricardo's hair, fighting to smile through his sadness. "Me. I cause you to be targetted by my enemies over and over again..."

The ring announcer freezes and sucks in a deep breath which tickles Del Rio's bronze skin a bit, the Mexican aristocrat chuckling against his ear despite how sad even that sounds. "But I enjoy assisting you, El Patron. I would do anything for you."

Alberto breathes him in a moment longer before pulling away. "And I you, Ricardo. Which is why we're having this talk right now." He cups his face and smiles sadly at him. "It's time for you to stop being my ring announcer."

Tears immediately fill the younger man's eyes and Alberto winces. "No," he says lowly. "Please, I-"

"I know if I allowed you, you would work with me forever and ever, but it's far from fair. You deserve better than that. So many people target and bully you due to your dedication to me. I want- I need things to be different for you. You deserve that much."

"But-" he breathes miserably, trembling as Alberto kisses him gently. "I don't... I don't want this to be over." He stares desperately at his employer, tears dripping down his fingers as Alberto tries to sooth him. "Por favor, no..."

"It's not over, Ricardo. Just the business aspect of us," he breathes, watching as Ricardo sniffs, face ruddy with tears. "We'll figure it out... make it work. I promise you." A deep sob that rattles both of them cuts Alberto off and he pulls Ricardo closer, realizing he could've handled all of this much better, came out from the start and confirmed that their personal relationship would always be in tact for as long as Ricardo could stand him. "No, no! I'm not breaking up with you," he says softly. "Never. You are too vital to me, I am not that unselfish. I need you too much."

Ricardo shudders and looks up, tears still glistening on his cheeks as Alberto tsks at him and kisses them away. "Really?" When Alberto nods against him, unable to speak through his own overwhelming emotions, the ring announcer buries his head in Del Rio's chest. "Gracias a Dios," he mumbles.

"It's not going to be easy," Alberto whispers after a few moments of just holding him, pulling back to look at him but still soothingly stroking his back. "But I believe we'll make it through."

Ricardo nods glumly, tangling his fingers in his silk shirt, dreading when he'll have to let go, however temporarily it'll be. "I can make it through anything with you alongside me, El Patron."

Alberto smiles and kisses him, sighing softly. "I feel the same about you," he whispers against his lips, knowing that they have to move soon, put this all into motion, but in absolutely no hurry as Ricardo kisses him back, both of them still a little teary eyed at losing even this minor thread which had led to something so much stronger, durable.


	12. Treinta

**Ricardo Rodriguez has been suspended for 30 days due to his first Wellness Policy violation.**

Alberto Del Rio finds himself unable to stop staring at the screen. His ring announcer had stayed at home following Dolph Ziggler's harsh attack on Friday, considering how rough the guitar strike had been, leaving him bruised and more than a little sore, especially after being sent through a table and also thrown unceremoniously out of the ring. But this... the very last thing Alberto will get to see before boarding his flight back to Florida... He swallows and closes his eyes, wondering what happened. How everything had gone so badly so quickly.

He wants to call him, get the true story, but phones aren't allowed to be on during the flight, much less actual conversations held, so he refrains with every bit of willpower within him, pocketing his cell phone reluctantly. The next few hours, he knows, will be torture, but soon he'll be able to see Ricardo for himself, and figure out the truth. His only solace is that the younger man is with Sofia, who will hopefully be able to keep things together until he arrives.

Finally, _finally,_ he pulls up in front of his home and stares up at it, his phone suspiciously lacking texts or tweets from the younger man. He swallows and collects his bags, approaching the front door. He's barely taken one step towards it when it's thrown open, Sofia visibly waiting for him, a distressed look on her face. "Senor," she says shakily.

He stares at her, worry growing. "What's wrong, Sofia?" he demands, walking faster up the steps to join her. "Ricardo- is he...?"

"He needs you," she responds, barely moving aside in time as he rushes into the house and begins looking for his ring announcer. He finds him in the living room and she hesitates, watching in the doorway as he kneels down by him, looking up into his face, before reaching out and taking the cell phone from his shaking hands, blocking the social media sites from his eyes finally. Accomplishing something Sofia couldn't for the past few hours.

"Ricardo," Alberto whispers, reaching up to cup his face. "Hey, hey. Look at me."

The younger man shakes his head, desperately staring at his hands. "El Patron," he mumbles, shame bleeding through his every word. "Lo siento, I- I... lo siento." He buries his face into his hands and trembles, unable to do anything but apologize through his fingers as Del Rio and Sofia exchange pained glances.

"Hey, stop- Ricardo-" he pleads, shifting his position to sit next to him on the couch. "It's ok, it's ok." He holds onto him, gently tugging him over until he gives up and sinks into Alberto's arms, sniffing plaintively. "Stop apologizing. When you're ready, por favor, tell me what happened... how this... happened..."

"I- I... was trying to..." He winces, looking ashamed. "I was trying to get back into shape. The fat burners- they, they were-" He chokes, unable to spit the words out. "I didn't know. _I didn't know._ The things people are saying..." He digs his burning face further into Del Rio's shirt and groans. "Es stupido..."

"No, no," he breathes, hurting for him. "You're not stupid, Ricardo. Look at me," he insists. When Ricardo reluctantly complies, he smiles at him sympathetically. "You're going to be fine. I'll be home as much as I can, and the month will go by before you know it. As for the idiotas on the internet, pay them no mind. They don't matter." He leans closer and presses his forehead to Ricardo's. "The only thing that does is your wellbeing. Si?" He doesn't look convinced and Del Rio taps him on the nose, wanting, needing an answer. "Si?"

"Si," he mumbles, blinking when Alberto smiles sadly, kissing him. "You're- you're really not mad at me?"

"Of course not!" Del Rio tells him, honestly shocked he'd even think such a thing possible. "Never." He chuffs his jaw gently before pulling him closer. "Mind doing me a favor, however?" When Ricardo nods against his collar, Alberto sighs. "Take a break from social media for a bit. You don't need to see that ugliness from those idiotas, especially now. Promise me?"

"Alright," the younger man breathes against him, hands clinging to his shirt. "I promise."

Alberto kisses the top of his head. "Good. Come." Before Ricardo could ask or refuse, he stands up and, clinging to the younger man's hands, pulls him up too. He smiles sadly at Sofia as he leads the ring announcer out of the house, hand warm and comforting against his back as he guides him out to his spacious grounds, past most of the garages until they near the pond. "Sit, por favor," he beckons, following his own commands and patting the space next to him. Ricardo stares at him for a moment before doing so, Del Rio immediately curling an arm around him and drawing him closer. "Everything will work out," he murmurs against his skin. "You'll see."

Ricardo's fingers tangle in his collar as he breathes against Alberto's skin. "I'm going to miss traveling with you." They sit in silence as he blinks slowly. "I'm going to miss _you..._ "

"I'll miss you too," he admits softly, stroking his hair gently. "But we'll talk on the phone, and I'll come back home as much as I can. The month will go by quickly. I promise."

"Ok," Ricardo mumbles, burying his face in his shoulder once more. "I hope so."

Alberto squeezes his neck and holds him quietly, wondering how much worse things can get. By the time they return inside, it's nearly dark outside and the reality had leaked to the internet, which brings along with it a whole different cycle of vicious, hurtful comments on social media, and Del Rio is sorely tempted to shatter all internet-capable devices in the vicinity. "Fools."

They sit in silence for a bit, lost in thought, when Ricardo hesitantly speaks up. "I want to... tweet something quickly. I won't, I won't read what people are saying, but... just to put it behind me. Or... update those who _aren't_ being... cruel." He looks so despondent and weary that Alberto can't argue with him, no matter what, so he hands the device over after bringing up the 'new tweet' screen, sitting down next to him to see what he'll say, arm warm and soothing around his shoulders. "Gracias."

"Of course," Del Rio breathes, reading his tweets about charity work and other haphazardly typed statements that makes him sad for and proud of the man sitting next to him. As soon as Ricardo finishes typing the last tweet, he reaches out for the device and smiles at him when he allows it to be taken, hidden into a drawer. "You're going to be ok." The ring announcer nods as he nuzzles closer to him, kissing his neck.

"Si," is all he says against Alberto's skin, eyes closed tightly.

They thankfully get to spend the next couple of days together, Del Rio doing all he can to keep the ring announcer busy, distracted from social media and the fact that he'll be leaving in a couple of days for Smackdown and weekend events leading into Raw, but it passes by much too quickly and before they're ready for it, he's packing to leave the next morning, Ricardo idly polishing his world title. Very little is said until Alberto zips his bag up and walks back over to the ring announcer, standing over him as he stares at the belt, repeatedly running his towel over the same spot in the belt needlessly, seemingly unaware of anything else around him.

"Ay, Ricardo," he breathes, cupping his face with one hand and scooping the title belt up with the other, laying it down on the bed before kneeling down by the despondent ring announcer. "Come here." Pulling him closer, he kisses his forehead before resting his jaw on top of his head. Trembling hands tangling in his shirt, Ricardo sniffs slightly, burrowing further into his employer's embrace. He pulls back after a moment, stroking his hands down the younger man's face, smiling sadly at him.

"Lo siento, I just- I wish I could go with you," he says sadly, shaking his head slightly. "It's going to be such... such a long month. I should've... made sure that..."

"Hey, hey." Alberto stares deep into his eyes. "I told you. It's not your fault, si? It was a simple mistake. I don't want to hear that you've spent this whole time blaming yourself. Now come, let's get some sleep, hmm?" He kisses him before moving aside, pulling the sheets down as Ricardo sighs glumly, inching under them as Alberto slips in next to him, turning to face him. "Everything will be fine," he whispers soothingly, reaching over him to turn the lamp off. "I promise." He smiles down at him, hovering over his upper body as Ricardo shudders at his proximity, watching him in the darkness. "Believe me?"

"Si, of course I do," he whispers back at him, smiling faintly when Alberto kisses his nose.

"Bueno. Now come here," Del Rio urges, dropping back onto his side and holding an arm out to Ricardo. As the ring announcer snuggles up close to him, breathing softly against his collar, he smiles and strokes his fingers through his hair. "It'll all work out, I swear to you."

Ricardo nods a time or two, his breathing already growing steady and deep beneath Del Rio's repetitive motions. "I love you," he mumbles tiredly.

"I love you too, mi valiente," Alberto responds, barely aware of the words he'd just said as he presses a soft kiss to the top of his head. When it does register with him, he has to smile, finding it a quite suitable definition for the man who'd been through so much and always worked past it, no matter what. "Rest well." Although Ricardo falls into a thankfully deep sleep, Del Rio stays awake, content to hold him and absorb the moment, knowing that soon they'll be apart for the first time in years. He dreads it more than he's dreaded most things in his career, more even than having to go out on Smackdown after Ziggler had cashed out and face everyone, titleless, a loser. As much as he loves being champion, titles and accolades had come and gone, but Ricardo had almost always been a constant in his career through the good times and bad. The next few weeks without him seems inconcievable...

He's not sure exactly when he falls asleep, but he's aware that it's close to 6 AM when he wakes up the next morning, Ricardo still pressed close to him, lips parted sweetly as he sleeps on in his arms. Alberto smiles down at him, feeling horrible for having to take the peace away from him so soon, but knowing that he has to move, they have to get ready to part. Closing his eyes, he leans down and kisses him slowly, feeling as he begins to respond, squirming and sighing against his lips. "Time to get up, Ricardo," he murmurs gently, pulling back enough to watch as the grim reality returns to him.

"No," he pouts, burying his face in Del Rio's shoulder. "Just a little longer?"

"Lo siento, my flight is in a couple of hours, we should get moving," he whispers into his ear, smiling when the younger man groans and pulls away reluctantly, staring at him glumly. "It'll go by quickly, I promise. I'll call as often as I can."

"I know you will," he sighs, watching as his employer stands and walks towards the bathroom. As soon as he's out of sight, Ricardo's face falls and he scrubs at his eyes, grimacing. Despite having some plans for the next few weeks- charity work, and helping Sofia with some things, and whatever else he can think of to pass the time- he feels ill at the thought of being away from what he loves- and _who_ he loves- for so long, sniffing to himself until the shower clicks off. Using the sheets to dry his eyes, he looks up as Alberto leaves the bathroom, running a towel through his short dark hair before digging around in the dresser for something to wear.

It's only once he turns back to the bed that his face softens, recognizing the look of fresh tears on his face. "Oh, Ricardo," he murmurs, forgoing everything else to rejoin his ring announcer. Cupping his face, he gently kisses his eyes, brushing the remaining tears away. "It'll be alright, I promise you."

"I believe you," he mumbles, gripping Del Rio's wrists as if he's afraid to let go.

Shifting, he kisses his lips slowly, sweetly, before pulling away reluctantly. "Get dressed, Ricardo. I'll finish double checking my bag and then we can go, si?"

"Si, alright," the ring announcer says glumly, pulling himself out of bed. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Take your time," Del Rio urges him, watching as he collects a few things and pads into the bathroom, his eyes dark and grim. He sighs and leans over, adjusting his shoes when he spots one of Ricardo's shirts poking out of the closet, caught between the door and wall. He stands and frees it, staring down at the soft black fabric pinched between his fingers. Glancing over his shoulder, he pulls it off of the hanger and walks back over to his bag, stuffing it inside with all of his wrestling necessities.

By the time Ricardo leaves the bathroom, he's sitting on the bed once more, looking over his flight information as if he hadn't moved the whole time. The ring announcer sits down next to him, tilting his head. "Is everything in order?"

"Looks like," Alberto nods. "Gracias, Ricardo." He presses a kiss to the top of his head, sighing. "Come, we better go now."

"Alright." His eyes remain downcast the whole time they walk down the hallway, Sofia following them quietly to the door.

Stopping before he walks out into the Florida heat, he smiles at his housekeeper, holding a hand out to her. "Take good care of him for me, si?"

She meets him halfway, squeezing his fingers gently. "Of course, Senor. Everything will be fine." They smile at each other before she gently releases him and turns to Ricardo, wrapping her arms around him. "I'll see you soon, senor. I'll have breakfast waiting for when you return."

But Ricardo shakes his head against her neck, pulling away with a wan look on his face. "That won't be necessary, Sofia. I'm not hungry-"

"Oh, yes, it is necessary," Del Rio speaks up, staring at his ring announcer. "You need to eat, Ricardo. Sofia, make sure he eats, por favor." He brushes a finger down Ricardo's nose, shaking his head at him. "I will be checking in to make sure you take care of yourself, Ricardo. You're stressed enough, I won't have you falling ill on top of everything else."

He stares at his feet for a moment before Alberto cups his jaw, forcing him to look up. "Si, El Patron," he finally whispers. "I'll try. I'll- I'll be ok."

"Of course you will." Del Rio smiles at him, kissing him softly. "Come now, we have to go or I'll miss my flight." Ricardo nods grimly, watching as he hugs Sofia once more, before they leave the house. As soon as they're in the car, Del Rio leans over and kisses him again. "This month will go by quickly, Ricardo. And we'll talk as often as we can, si?"

"Si, El Patron," he whispers, watching quietly as his employer starts the car and drives them towards the airport. Neither talk much, their hands entangled together at every stop. When they finally reach the airport, Ricardo twists in his seat and stares at the older man. "I love you."

Alberto's face lights up as he reaches out for the ring announcer, hugging him close. "I love you too." He pulls away after a moment and kisses his nose, smiling as he sighs grimly, unfortunately aware of how quickly their last bit of time together is slipping through their fingers. "Come on."

"Si," the younger man sighs, following him inside to wait for his flight to be called. They don't let go of the others' hands, Alberto sometimes lifting his hand to press a soothing kiss to his knuckles. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," he breathes, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. "I wish I could bring you with, but I know you have things you want to do here... Your charity work, and all." He smiles when Ricardo nods, squeezing his fingers.

"Si, but if you ever really want me there, even if it's just to stay at the hotel, or..." He swallows, shaking his head mournfully. "Just let me know, El Patron."

Alberto sighs, forcing a smile. "Of course, Ricardo, but perhaps a month to relax and take a bit of a breather from constant traveling and stress..." He watches sadly as the younger man's face falls a little, leaning over to pull him close. "It'll be fine. I'll come home as often as I can, we'll talk on the phone and..." He presses a kiss to the ring announcer's forehead. "It won't be the same, but we'll survive. It'll be ok, Ricardo."

"I hope," he whispers, leaning against his employer. "I miss you already."

Del Rio sighs, aching for the younger man as he pulls him closer.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Stop," he chides, pressing his hand to Ricardo's lips, smiling sadly. "I require no apology from you. Just... relax, Ricardo." He kisses his temple. "We'll make it through, si? I only need one thing from you."

Ricardo blinks tearfully at him and Alberto smiles, kissing his forehead, between his eyes, the tip of his nose, all the way down to his mouth. "Que?" he whispers against his lips.

"Stay strong. I know you've already been through so much, but I also know you're capable of dealing with much more than anyone gives you credit for." He strokes his face tenderly. "So just a little more, and I swear things will start to get better. Si? Can you do that?"

Ricardo nods grimly, staring into his employer's eyes. "Si, El Patron. For you."

Alberto smiles sadly, wishing just once Ricardo would do something for himself, but relieved that he at least has some motivation. "That's all I need," he whispers, kissing him. "You to be ok."

As he walks away, boarding the plane, the ring announcer slumps into a seat and watches until the plane is out of sight, swallowing thickly before turning to leave the airport, return to the quiet, lifeless house and Sofia, who greets him with a sympathetic hug.

Smackdown is hard to watch, witnessing Alberto on his own, visibly angry when he watches the recaps of the fiesta that had been ruined by Ziggler. He takes his anger out on the so-called lazy, fat Americans celebrating the 4th of July, and Ricardo winces, the words hitting just a little too close to home. Sofia looks at him worriedly before turning her attention back to the TV, wondering what her employer is thinking, if at all. Either way, the promo leads into a match between he and Punk, which ends by DQ after Del Rio punches Heyman and Punk loses it on him. Ricardo watches the rest of the show silently and as soon as it's done, Sofia quietly takes the remote from him and turns the TV off, turning to stare at him. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before standing. "Buenas noches, Sofia," he murmurs, unaware of the frown on her face as he leaves the room to go to bed.

"Oh senor," she sighs, heart breaking all over again for the younger man.

He's just settled into bed when his phone lights up, Alberto's picture flashing on the screen as it rings. He stares at it for a long moment before rolling over and closing his eyes, not wanting to hear Alberto's voice right now, his earlier words still haunting him. When he successfully drags himself out of bed the next morning, there are a couple of voicemails and a number of worried texts from the Mexican aristocrat and Ricardo hesitates over them, finally forcing himself to face the situation. The first voicemail is simple, Alberto complaining about Punk for a moment before his voice softens, speaking comforting words in Spanish before he hangs up, promising to call again later.

After a few unanswered texts, however, he seems to clue in that something's wrong and his voice sounds edgey and worried in the second voicemail. "Mi valiente? Are you asleep? Sofia seems to think so... but it's so early. I hope you did not think my words in the ring tonight were somehow aimed at you... I don't secretly think such things of you. I would not have hired you if I did, nor would I have fallen in love with you... Por favor, let me know you're alright." There's a long period of silence before he disconnects the call, Ricardo pressing the phone against his forehead as soon as it clicks.

He still has his doubts, the timing of it all just too convenient, but yet... he wants to believe Alberto, with everything in him. This more than anything leads him into dialing his employer's number, staring blankly at the opposing wall as it rings. When Alberto answers, sounding breathless and desperate, he closes his eyes and swallows. "El Patron."

"Mi valiente," he chokes out, static taking over the line for a moment. "Ay," he hisses once reception clears a bit. Ricardo wonders vacantly where he's at. "Are you alright?"

"Si, I'm fine," he says, though he feels- and sounds- anything but. "Lo siento, I went to bed early and... didn't see your texts and calls until now."

Alberto sounds doubtful as he asks quietly, "Did you sleep well?" Ricardo doesn't answer and he releases a soft breath. "Ricardo... I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking last night- I should've thought of a different way to make my point against those perro fans... as I said in my voicemail, it had nothing to do with you..." He hesitates. "You did listen to the voicemails, didn't you, mi valiente?"

"Si," he says softly, staring out his window at the grounds as the sky slowly turns from a somber grey to a soft blue, the sun finally finding its place.

"I'm glad." Del Rio sighs. "I'm going to send you something as soon as we get off of the phone. I hope you enjoy it."

"Alright," he murmurs, expecting the call to end at any time so he can see whatever it is Alberto has in mind, but instead Alberto continues to speak, telling him about everything he's seen since leaving Florida. It hurts, adds to Ricardo's ache to be back on the road with the older man, but he's missed Alberto's voice more than anything, so he listens intently, smiling slightly at the various funny things Del Rio mentions.

Finally Alberto runs out of things to say and he sighs, reluctant to hang up. "I suppose I should go now, Ricardo. Now that I know you're awake, I'll be sending the video momentarily... and I'll call again soon, si?"

"Si, alright, El Patron," he says, relieved that the first, terrible phone call since everything is almost over. He loves his employer, of course, and normally would enjoy hearing his stories but this situation is different- before, when he'd be injured enough to be kept off of the road, it was one thing but this was an oversight of his own, and... It just hurts. He imagines that he'll adjust and everything will be alright in the end, as Alberto keeps saying, but a month of this feels like such torture to even think about, he's not sure how he'll be getting through it in one piece. Even so, he can't take all of it out on his employer, continue doing things like what he had done the night before, worrying the Mexican aristocrat so thoroughly. "I love you."

Alberto's voice is drowning in relief as he whispers, "I love you too, mi valiente. So much. Adios."

"Adios," he murmurs, clicking the end button on his phone. He's just stood up to find Sofia, see if she needs help getting breakfast together before he forces himself to start his day, wanting to get an early start on his charity work, when his phone beeps again. He looks down at it and raises an eyebrow as it flashes to let him know there's a video waiting for him. He frowns, accessing it, and sits back down heavily on his bed when Del Rio appears, grin a little tired but sincere as he stares into the screen.

"Mi valiente! We're taking a ferry to the live events in Maryland this weekend," he explains. "I wish you were here, it is incredible." He turns the phone away and moves in a slow circle to show the foilage surrounding them, the beautiful blue water washing over it as it rocks the boat they're on gently. "I love you and I miss you," he says, aiming the lens back at his face. "I can't wait for these events to be over so I can come home and hold you. I'll talk to you soon, mi valiente. Try to have a good day."

He stares at the screen as it turns dark, his breath shuddering deep in his chest as he presses the cool screen against his forehead and tries not to lose it. He aches for his employer, he aches to be on that boat with him, he aches for all of this to not have happened. But it has, and there's no turning back.

Even with the promised phone calls from Alberto and his charity, the days pass painfully slowly and it takes everything in him to hold on until Monday night, when Sofia joins him in the living room for the week's Raw, his first opportunity at truly seeing Alberto since he'd left. The housekeeper smiles comfortingly at him as he glances at her, his eyes dull and sad as the show starts. Both only pay some attention to what's going on until Alberto comes out for his match against Sin Cara, Ricardo swallowing heavily when it's interrupted by Dolph Ziggler, who appears to be trying to mimic his ring announcement for Alberto. He looks away, bitter tears filling his eyes, until Alberto goes after him, the match against Sin Cara all but forgotten as they brawl. "El Patron," he mumbles, looking up as Sofia stands up.

"I'll be back in a moment, Senor. I'll get us some water," she says softly, walking to the kitchen after he nods. As soon as she's out of sight, he hesitantly pulls his cell phone out and accesses Twitter, typing up a tweet about wrestling... but he's just barely found the courage to send it when she returns, surprised to find him with the phone. "Senor," she says softly, putting the drinks down and resting her hands on his. He looks her in the eye and sighs, deflating slightly as the reality of what a bad idea it is to tweet at all right now, so he deletes it, not bothering to check his mentions as she hugs him and lightly takes the phone from him, putting it into a drawer while they watch the rest of the show for another glimpse of Alberto, which doesn't come.

Ricardo stands as soon as the show ends, turning to look at Sofia. "Gracias for watching it with me," he tells her, knowing he's been far from good company the last week. "Buenas noches."

"My pleasure, senor," she tells him with a small, sad smile. "Buenas noches." He's turned to walk off when she remembers. "Senor, wait, your cell phone," she calls after him, handing it over when he turns back to her. She doesn't want him to access Twitter again, but she also knows Alberto will more than likely call him now that Raw's over, and he'll worry if Ricardo doesn't answer.

"Gracias," he tells her, squeezing her fingers lightly as he takes the device from her. She watches him walk back towards his bedroom, dark eyes welling with sadness for the younger man as he disappears through the doorway, the door clicking shut behind him. He stares blankly into the shadows, shaking his head for a moment before he trudges over to the closet to find something to wear to bed, wanting nothing more than to collapse into the sheets and not move for at least ten hours. If not for Sofia, he'd stay in bed even longer... but he can't worry her, or Alberto, who will be home for a couple days until Smackdown, when the cycle will continue all over again...

Ricardo is already at his charity work the next day when Alberto arrives back in Florida, exchanging a couple of texts with Sofia when she picks the Mexican aristocrat up from the airport. Though he enjoys spending time with his employer, at least while he's busy helping people and doing other worthwhile things, his failings as Alberto's ring announcer and everything else are far from his mind. So when he looks up from organizing some donations, he's thrown when he sees Alberto and Sofia both standing a few feet away, watching him with a faint smile. "El... El Patron?" he mutters, forgetting the pile of clothes he's folding. "Eh, eh- what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

Alberto nods, carefully walking around the table to join him, resting his hands on his shoulders and rubbing some of the tension out of his muscles. "Si, everything's fine, I just missed you, mi valiente. Do you mind our being here?"

"No- no, of course not, El Patron," he says quietly, leaning into his touch. "I've missed you as well." He glances over Alberto's shoulder at Sofia, smiling slightly as she approaches them. "As happy as I am to see you both, though, I have to finish sorting through these donations before it gets too late..."

Alberto smiles fondly and pulls Ricardo in, kissing the top of his head. "What would you say if I said we were here to volunteer with you? Would you mind?"

It takes a minute for these words to register with him and he swallows, eyes softening with love for his employer. "W- would I mind? Of course not! I- I really am happy you're here." He smiles sincerely for the first time since his suspension, Alberto pulling away to look at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, having missed the feel of his smiles against his skin almost more than the actual sight of one.

"Come, let's get started," he breathes, his hand resting on the small of Ricardo's back as he turns back to begin helping him with the clothes, neither of them that surprised when Sofia exceeds both of them in finishing her third of the pile and part of both of theirs in a short amount of time, the three of them moving onto the next thing needed done, Alberto pleased to do it for as long as it keeps the happy look on Ricardo's face.

Del Rio is sad to leave Florida after the last few days of seeing Ricardo at his best, helping people and forgetting his own troubles for at least that amount of time. Even so, he's glad to return to the road with a somewhat clearer mindset, especially when he sees he's been granted a rematch against Sin Cara, and even more so when he learns that Ziggler has been given the night off, smug in his upcoming victory against the annoying luchador.

He foresees no other possible outcome until he actually is face to face with the masked man in the ring- Sin Cara _seems_ different, taller and more muscular, with a bizarre tan... but Alberto can't put his finger on what the change in him is until they lock up. His offensive style seems familiar, though he can't quite believe it, wondering if perhaps he's lost his mind. But he quickly realizes he _hasn't_ when he's laying dazed on the mat, fresh off of a ZigZag.

Angrily spitting at this embarassment, he kicks everything in sight on his way back to the locker room, wishing that Ricardo is here. Though, considering Alberto's temper, he quickly regrets that fleeting wish, knowing that if he took his anger out on the younger man ever again, he'd never forgive himself. Especially now. The next couple of days, he keeps his conversations with Ricardo over the phone light and calm, biting his tongue against the welling annoyance that he knows will fuel him during their rematch for the World title on Sunday.

When it's finally time, the match starts to slip through his fingers, Ziggler fighting back with as much vengeance as he had the past few weeks and again, Alberto finds himself missing Ricardo's assurances and steady confidence in his abilities, but in the end, it doesn't matter as AJ Lee makes her way to ringside and, growing more and more frantic the more he attacks Dolph's head, causes her boyfriend the match when she smacks Alberto in the skull with her divas title, temporarily dazing him right in front of the referee, who quickly calls for the disqualification.

Del Rio laughs as he clutches his belt and heads up the ramp, his amusement growing as he- and everyone else backstage- overhears the couple arguing through the entire arena, AJ begging him to understand until he finally shrugs her off. "Ha, these perros have no idea what a proper relationship is like," Alberto murmurs to himself with a smirk as he makes his way back into his personal locker room, finding his cell phone and collapsing onto the couch, holding his title belt close, pressing speed dial 2. "Hola, mi valiente," he says as soon as the phone call connects.

"Hola, El Patron," Ricardo responds. "Congratulations, I'm glad you retained your title..." Del Rio beams as his ring announcer knows instinctively that he doesn't care exactly _how_ he won, taking any win as it comes as long as it means that the gold belt remains around his waist. "But are you ok? I know that title shot couldn't have felt great..."

"Gracias," he says softly. "And I'm fine, no worries. I'm more amused than anything. You should hear these peasants arguing through out the halls, allowing everyone to hear their pointless little drama. As if Ziggler had any chance at regaining his title from me." Ricardo says nothing for a long moment, and Alberto sighs, closing his eyes. "I wish you could be here to properly celebrate this moment with me, mi valiente."

"I wish so too," he mumbles. "But... may I ask you something, El Patron?"

"Of course, anything, Ricardo. What is it?" Despite Alberto's encouragement, he still seems to be struggling with the words. The Mexican aristocrat sighs softly and whispers, "Ricardo? Por favor, what do you want to know?"

"Wh... why do you call me that? You keep- keep calling me "valiente" and I, I suppose I just don't understand."

Alberto blinks blankly as he stares at the nearest wall, lips twitching upwards. "It isn't obvious, Ricardo?" He sighs, wishing that the younger man could see himself as he does. "You're the strongest, most brave man I've ever met. No matter what I, or anyone else, have put you through over the years, you always keep your head up and do what needs to be done. It is beyond impressive and even calling you valiente seems to minimize all that you accomplish."

Ricardo swallows, breathing raggedly into the phone. "Really?"

"Would I lie about such things, Ricardo?" Alberto smiles slightly, wishing he could look the ring announcer in the eye, make sure that he's believing him. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. You know this about me."

"Si, of course I do," he whispers. "Lo siento, I just..."

"No, no need to apologize." Del Rio shakes his head. "Mi valiente, you take way too much upon your shoulders. Relax, hm? This is a good day, I have retained my title, and we will be seeing each other soon."

"I'm counting the minutes, El Patron."

"Me too," he sighs, smiling fondly.

The next night, AJ strikes again during their rematch, taking her anger towards the break up out on Ziggler, costing him the rematch and once more letting Del Rio leave with the World title, laughing uproariously all the way back to the locker room. His eyes shine as he collects his things, stuffing them carelessly into his bag. He's so eager to leave, make his way home, that he drives straight to the airport, not stopping for food or anything else along the way. Beyond relieved for red eye flights, he doesn't have that long of a wait before boarding begins, eager to call Ricardo but not wanting to disturb him if he should be asleep, or risk ruining the surprise that he'll be home sooner than originally expected.

In fact, by the time he arrives to Miami, the sun has only just risen and he smiles, looking around at the sleepy city as he finds his car and drives it back to his mansion, entering in the security code at the gate and driving in quietly. Carefully parking and getting out, he stares at his house for a long moment before shutting the door and slipping inside the house, toeing his shoes off at the front door and padding through the halls, it clear that Sofia and Ricardo are both fast asleep. His room is empty so he turns towards Ricardo's room instead and leans against the doorframe, peeking in at him as he sleeps, Alberto's lips twitching up fondly. Sighing softly, he shrugs out of his jacket and slips into the room, laying his clothes on a nearby chair before settling down next to Ricardo, watching him as he breathes softly.

Drawn by his warmth, the younger man rolls over onto his side, eyes fluttering. "El Patron? You're home early."

"Si, indeed I am, mi valiente," he whispers, smiling down at him. "Come here." Upon his shifting closer, Alberto wraps an arm around him and pulls him against his body, pressing his cheek against his forehead. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too." He dozes against Alberto's chest for awhile, murmuring quietly. When he awakens, Del Rio brushes his fingers through his hair and kisses him gently, smiling when Ricardo's fingers tug at his shirt collar. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you Friday. I should've been..."

"Ssshhhh," Del Rio chides him calmly. "Don't feel guilty about that, Ziggler has already done plenty to you, the last thing I want is you to be attacked yet again because of my actions against him." He strokes his jaw gently and smiles down at him. "How is your charity work going?" They lay there quietly, talking about their various experiences, as sounds of Sofia moving around in the kitchen, aromas of food and coffee, fill the house. "When you're ready for breakfast, let me know," Alberto whispers, kissing the side of Ricardo's mouth. Neither of them are that eager to get out of bed, the ring announcer stroking his arm as they lay side by side, enjoying just being together for a little while longer.

Eventually, however, it seems beyond rude just to continue ignoring Sofia, so they slowly drag themselves out of bed and Ricardo sighs as Alberto hands him the clothes Ricardo had waiting on the chair by the bed to pick Alberto up from the airport in, grinning over at him as he pulls them on. He turns to find Alberto standing behind him with an eager smirk on his face, cupping his face and kissing him as Ricardo's hands trail up to rest on his wrists, sighing softly into his mouth. "Come on, let's go, or we're never getting out of here before everything goes cold..."

"Mmm," Alberto grunts, pulling away. "Fine, let's go. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back." Ricardo laughs, shaking his head softly, allowing his employer to drag him out of the room.

They're sitting across from each other at the dinner table awhile later, Alberto finishing his first mug of coffee, when Ricardo clears his throat, resting his fork on the napkin with a nervous, jerky little motion. Del Rio looks up and peers at him, eyebrows raising. "El Patron, I think... I... I think I want to begin going on twitter again." Del Rio's brows furrow and Ricardo winces. "Not to read mentions or... or anything. But I know I still have followers on there who... are probably wondering by now what's going on. I may as well put them at ease, si? Le- let them know I'm doing... ok..."

Alberto catches Sofia's eye as she walks behind Ricardo, waiting to fill his coffee mug up anew, and the housekeeper smiles at him, nodding subtly. He looks back at Ricardo and, noticing the hope in the younger man's eyes, nods warily, not wanting to take something _else_ from him. "I see. Do you mind if I stay with you... when you do? Just in case you need support?"

Ricardo stares at him, a soft smile crossing his face. "I'd like that, El Patron, si." Alberto beams at him, trying to ignore his misgivings as he rests a hand on Ricardo's, squeezing his fingers gently. Once they finish eating, the two of them wandering into the living room to relax, Ricardo leaning against Alberto's shoulder as he wraps an arm around his midsection. His phone is back where it had been put when the suspension began, in the drawer of the table across from them. Del Rio waits quietly, his watchful eyes on the younger man until finally he sighs and pulls away almost an hour later, sitting up to scoop the device out of the drawer.

The both of them say very little as Ricardo turns the phone on, surprised to find that it still has some charge after all of this time. He accesses Twitter on his mobile web and stares at the website, a little dazed by his first glimpse of it after so long of avoiding it. Alberto's hand rests on between his shoulderblades soothingly as he stares at the tiny screen, hands trembling slightly while he sends his first tweet in weeks, breathing raggedly as soon as it's sent, scared to even guess what reaction he'll gain. As soon as it's out in cyberspace, Alberto takes the phone from him and clicks it off, pulling him back into his arms. "That wasn't so bad, hm?" he asks after a few minutes, rubbing his hand up and down his shoulder.

"No," Ricardo mumbles, face pressed against his neck. "Not really. Gracias, if you hadn't stayed..."

Alberto shakes his head, shushing him softly. "You never have to worry about that, I'll always be right here by your side whenever you want or need me."

Ricardo smiles, squirming closer to press a kiss to his mouth. "Always, for both, El Patron."

"Hm," Del Rio hums, smirking as they settle against the couch, the phone dropping to the floor, it and all forms of social media forgotten for now.

That Thursday, Alberto and Ricardo are relaxing by the pond, fresh after a long walk around the grounds to check on things, when Alberto's phone beeps, followed by Ricardo's. They both stir, looking up at each other with frowns, all too aware that their phones are only set to alert them both when something newsworthy breaks about each other or Alberto's brother. "Ay dios mio, now what?" Del Rio mumbles, tugging his phone out. Ricardo reaches out and grips his hand, worried as well as he accesses the alert and stares at it, reading the English words just a little bit faster than his employer. His hold on Alberto tightens as the words register with him, looking up at him with fear in his eyes.

Alberto's face darkens as he examines the words, trying to understand what exactly just happened, how it possibly could be that, now, when things are already so rocky, his brother could be released from the business, with little to no warning. Ricardo's hand is warm and steady against his and he finally falls back to reality, tossing his phone as far away from him as he possibly can, snarling unhappily. Ricardo watches the phone's arc through the sky before it falls to the ground with a suspicious cracking sound. He closes his eyes and slips under his employer's arm, hugging him around the chest. "I'm sorry, Alberto."

The Mexican aristocrat hisses, slipping his hands under Ricardo's jacket and holding him close in response, gritting his teeth together in an attempt to keep the worst of his anger inside. "I hate this business sometimes," he finally chokes out, digging his fingers into Ricardo's back. The ring announcer says nothing, listening to his ragged breathing for a few minutes. "Why didn't he tell me... I would've wanted to know, to... to be there for him if he needed it..."

Ricardo sighs and pulls back slightly to look at him, making sure not to break the hug, worried that it's the only thing holding Alberto together right now. "Maybe he's a little embarrassed, El Patron. Or ashamed..."

"He has no need to be, not with me!" he snaps, biting his tongue when Ricardo cringes in his arms. "I just... I want to help him through this... that he wouldn't even call me to let me know... that I had to find out from a web alert..."

"I know," the younger man whispers. "I understand. But maybe he's still processing all of this too, and once he has his head around it, he'll call or come to see you then."

Alberto releases a soft breath, pressing his face against Ricardo's shoulder for a moment before looking up, shaking his head. "You're right, of course. I... what would I do without you?" he murmurs, smiling shakily as Ricardo trails his fingers through his hair.

"You'll never have to learn," he shrugs. "You're stuck with me."

"Good."

After spending the night and part of the morning with Ricardo, Alberto is loathe to leave the next day, only able to imagine how badly the perros at the event will mock him for his brother leaving the company. But he has responsibilities so he upholds it, ignoring the whispers and murmurs surrounding him as he walks up to the board listing all of the matches scheduled for the evening. His eyes narrow when he sees that he has a match against Randy Orton that night, which he loses, only adding to his fury as he returns to his empty hotel room, grumbling to himself as he pulls his wristpads off and slams them into his bag, wanting to go home and hide at the lake with Ricardo once more, remain there forever, or until life makes sense again.

But he's never been one to run from his problems, so he travels on to Raw, stubbornly glaring down at Sheamus as they face off in the ring yet again that night. His main relief for the last couple of matches is that, at least, Ricardo isn't outside of the ring for either man to target, both seeming to take glee in injuring the ring announcer repeatedly in the past. Distracted by these thoughts, he barely notices a sharp pain radiating from his midsection until after the match, which he successfully wins. The trainer checks him over carefully, confirming what he already knows. A broken rib. The flight home does very little to help his discomfort, but Ricardo is waiting for him at the other end of it, so he struggles through it, fighting to get a couple hours of sleep during the trip.

When he gets off of the plane, Sofia is waiting for him at the gate and he frowns at her, pressing a hand to his ribcage as he lifts his suitcase and joins her. "Sofia? Is there a problem?" She hesitates, her face saying it all, and he walks quicker, a shudder of foreboding down his spine. "Come, let's go home."

When they arrive, the house is dark and quiet, Alberto walking through to the backyard until he finds Ricardo, who is sitting with his back to the patio, staring blankly at the pond. He sits down gingerly next to him, ignoring the stabbing pain up his side as he looks at what he can see of the other man's face. "Ricardo," he breathes, reaching out for him. "Mi valiente, are you ok? What's wrong?"

"Everything," he whispers after a few minutes, his face crumpling. Alberto realizes then that tears are pouring down his cheeks, staining his pantlegs and the ground. His heart breaks as he reaches out for him, tugging him over until he rests against his shoulder, Ricardo's fingers curling around his hand. "I, I... why is everything going wrong? You get hurt and I'm not there to help you, and I- I... just... I can't do anything to help anyone anymore..."

Alberto gives him a minute to cry, rocking him back and forth gently, before he tries to get through to him. "No, no, mi valiente... You don't realize how much you _do_ help me, even while you're here at home. No matter what's going on, I always look forward to coming home to you, and it keeps me going, through losses and injury, through everything." Ricardo's sobs slow after a few moments and he pulls away gingerly, brushing the leftover tears from his face. "Listen to me, this isn't going to last forever, si? In two more weeks, everything will be better." He rubs Ricardo's back, kissing his lips with a soft smile. "Trust me."

"I do," the younger man murmurs, his eyes narrowed until Alberto nudges him with gentle fingers, making him look up. Their eyes lock and he smiles at him, Ricardo releasing a soft sigh. "You can stay for a few days, si? I'm... I'm going to miss you when you're in South Africa..."

"Of course, mi valiente, why do you think I'm home? To spend the next few days with you until I have to leave for Smackdown, of course. Does that sound nice?" Ricardo nods and Alberto grins, leaning in to kiss him again.

After a few quiet days, Alberto doing what he can to keep Ricardo's mind off of things and his spirits up, he kisses him farewell on Friday before getting in line for security to get on the flight to Smackdown. His rib is still a painful mess, but he doesn't want to worry Ricardo, so he keeps it to himself, waiting until he's out of sight to rub at his midsection, shaking his head and grimacing as he ponders what the GMs could possibly do to make the situation worse. A match scheduled against RVD fits the bill, Alberto not looking forward to his kicks, not to mention the Five Star Frog Splash. So, not long after the bell rings, he allows a kick to the abdomen, and immediately collapses against the turnbuckle, trying to beg off the match, claiming he can't take anymore.

RVD has just conceded to give him a minute for the referee to check and see if he _can_ continue when he lunges forward and kicks his opponent in the face, laughing as he collapses to the mat, motionless. He can't, and wouldn't want to, stop the smirk that forms on his face as he makes his way backstage. It's not a victory in the books, but it's just as well as one to him- now he doesn't have to dodge more kicks, nor risk taking the Frog Splash. He'll be able to go on to South Africa without a worse injury, and he can hear the relief in Ricardo's voice as they talk before Alberto gets on the flight that will take him overseas. "I love you, mi valiente."

"I love you too, El Patron. Take good care of yourself."

Alberto's heart aches as he considers being so very far away. Traveling from state to state while Ricardo is in Florida is one thing, but to actually be all the way in another country... He closes his eyes and nods. "Si, I will, mi valiente. You and Sofia take good care of each other as well."

"We will," Ricardo promises softly. "I'll... I'll see you soon, si?" His voice wavers a little and Alberto smiles sadly, feeling beyond relieved that, after this week, his ring announcer's suspension will end and they'll be able to travel together again.

"Yes, you will, mi valiente. I look forward to it." But something feels off. He knows it, thinks Ricardo has begun to suspect it, despite how short their phone calls during this tour are thanks to the timezone differences, but he can't quite figure it out, not through the extensive travel, during the match he has against Christian on Raw that week, media events he has spanning various cities the next few days, nor the hours he spends in his hotel room, staring up at the ceiling and fighting jetlag jitters and his rampant, confusing thoughts.

It's not until Smackdown that he realizes, a sick taste in his mouth as he declares his Summerslam opponent will be Ricardo. Now that the words have left his mouth, he's set in his decision, despite dreading his ring announcer's reactions, or the match itself, with every fiber of his being, the mere thought of competing against him leaving him uncomfortable and sad. When Vickie Guerrero interrupts, feeling disrespected and angry, although he too is angry when she overrides his decision, making a triple threat match to decide the true #1 contender, deep down inside, he's relieved that it _won't_ be Ricardo, all too aware that the young man's been through enough, he doesn't need a last minute match to worry about as well.

He ponders this for quite awhile during Smackdown, _why_ exactly the mere act of naming Ricardo as his opponent at Summerslam had left him so disgusted, and when he finally faces the true reason behind his reluctance and self-recriminations for even putting such a thing in motion, it takes his breath away. Clenching his hands into fists, he stares down at the floor and shakes his head. "I have to stop this cycle," he murmurs. "Using Ricardo as a diversion, a distraction... allowing him to be attacked to my own benefit. No more." He looks up and relaxes his fists, a sad, accepting look crossing his face. "I know what I must do... por favor, mi valiente, forgive me."

Fueled by this decision, he runs out once the triple threat match ends and attacks Christian, who had ultimately won and would be his opponent at the pay per view. From there it's just a waiting game, for the South Africa tour to end, for the long flight back to America, to see Ricardo once more. So he can try to prepare the ring announcer for what's to come. But his willpower is low that Sunday night as he walks into the hotel room he'd booked for them, dropping his bags in the corner and going to slump on the bed, digging his fingers in his hair and sitting there motionless, worn out and anxious for Ricardo to arrive on his own flight from Florida.

When the door beeps open, Ricardo's soft, shuffling footsteps reaching Alberto's ears, he has to smile but he still doesn't move, content to listen to the familiar sounds of the other man resting his bags next to his own, walking over to the bed where he wraps his arms around the Mexican aristocrat and holds him, soft tears dripping down his neck as Ricardo trembles slightly. "It's good to be back, El Patron," he whispers into his hair and Alberto shifts, dragging him down to the bed so he can wrap his arms around Ricardo as well.

"I have missed you so much, mi valiente." He smiles softly, trying to breathe even as his idea pulses against his skull. _I should tell him..._ But Ricardo is already trembling so hard, his breath hitching through his tears, that it just seems beyond callous to welcome him back with such things. _In the morning,_ Alberto decides, pulling back to cup the ring announcer's tear-soaked face. "Ay, Ricardo." He smiles sadly down at him for a moment before standing up, pulling him to his feet as well. "Come, go take a nice long shower and get ready for bed, then we'll talk until we fall asleep, hm?"

Ricardo hesitates and examines him, surprised by the suggestion. Alberto had only been so accomodating when Ricardo was terribly injured, and even then it sometimes didn't happen, depending on his mood. "Did you- have you showered yet?"

Alberto shakes his head with a fond, sad smile and kisses Ricardo's forehead. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Go on, now. I'll be right here waiting for you when you come out."

"Al- alright," he decides eventually, ducking into the bathroom.

When the sounds of water pouring against the ceramic reaches Alberto's ears, he returns to the bottom of the bed and touches his lips, shaking his head. "How will I ever successfully accomplish this...?" But it has to be done. Not tonight, however, Alberto deciding to hold onto tonight with every ounce of strength that he has, not lose a second of it. Jetlag be damned. So when Ricardo ventures out fifteen minutes later, dressed in one of Alberto's old merch shirts for bed, Del Rio joins him, also ready for bed now and, taking the towel from him, begins running it through his hair, helping him to dry it so they can get into bed sooner.

"El Patron?" he asks hesitantly, waiting patiently while Alberto rubs the soft fabric over his head and neck absentmindedly. "Is... is everything ok?"

"Of course," the Mexican aristocrat says, finally coming back to himself and lowering the towel, Ricardo looking flustered after the extended amount of time he'd spent running it through his hair. "Why wouldn't it be?" He turns sharply, laying the towel down on the bedside table, mostly to give himself a moment. Try to shake off whatever other tells that may lead Ricardo to suspect something wrong is on the immediate horizon.

"I don't know," he says lowly. "You just seem... sad... Aren't you happy to see me?"

Alberto turns back around as quickly as he'd moved away, gripping Ricardo by the shoulders. "Of _course_ I am, Ricardo. I'm ecstatic!" Luckily he has a truthful excuse, and he doesn't even have to cast around for it very long, every wrestler experiencing it many times a year. "It's jetlag, mi valiente. I'm just jittery and exhausted from the long flight, and I want to hold you for a little bit. Is that alright?" He smiles a little, running his hands down the well-worn applique covering the other man's chest, always enjoying seeing Ricardo in his shirts.

Ricardo's face softens as he reaches up and grips the older man's wrists, smiling softly up at him. "Of course it is, El Patron." They walk together the few steps over to the bed and Alberto waits while the ring announcer pulls the sheets back, settling in and looking up until Del Rio lays down next to him, sighing softly as he pulls the sheets up, making sure they're both covered by the sheets but with room to kick them off if needed since it's stifling hot outside, being early August. As soon as they're comfortable enough, Ricardo rolls over and squirms closer, resting his head on Alberto's shoulder and smiling as he wraps an arm around his midsection, squeezing gently. "Is this good?"

"Si," Alberto whispers, leaning in and kissing him on the forehead. "Like you, it's perfect." Ricardo grins, trailing his fingiers against the soft fabric of his tank top, grazing his bare skin around its straps. After a few moments, Del Rio finds his hand in the darkness and tangles their fingers together, trapping his roaming hand between their bodies, stroking his knuckles. "Do you want to hear about South Africa?" he asks slowly, not wanting to hurt the younger man by talking about another overseas tour he had to miss out on. Ricardo nods easily enough and Alberto smiles, pulling him closer as he begins to talk, falling back on Spanish to describe the past week.

He talks lowly, his words flowing easily in their first language until he realizes that Ricardo hasn't moved or said anything in awhile. Peeking down at him, his eyes soften upon finding that that the ring announcer is fast asleep, his lips parted softly as his head rests against Alberto's chest. "Ah, mi valiente," he whispers, resting his face against Ricardo's soft, clean hair. "I love you." He kisses him gently, relieved when he doesn't wake up, aware that he's going to need all of the sleep he can get to make it through the next few days. Still unable to close his eyes and sleep himself, too lost in his thoughts and worries, the jetlag absolutely no help with any of it, he contents himself in laying there and watching his love sleep late into the night, listening to his soft breathing with a bittersweet smile. "I promise you, no matter what happens from here on, we're going to be ok."


	13. Crane Game Champions

_"Mi valiente, are you sure you don't mind going out to get food? I'll come with if you want-"_

_"No, El Patron, it's fine. I know you haven't been feeling well, these temperatures make everybody feel a little under the weather. Not to mention you wrestled tonight. Stay here and rest, and I'll be back soon."_

Ricardo Rodriguez smiles as he gets out of the car, the affectionate look on Alberto Del Rio's face following these words fresh in his mind as he walks towards the restaurant that he'd settled on, blowing into his hands to try to warm them. It's freezing, though he thinks maybe some hope for warmer weather in the northern states might be on the horizon, as tired as everyone else of this winter. He walks up to the building and hums slightly, glancing around to see how long his wait might be. He walks up to the counter to order when his eyes rest on a crane game machine, his face lighting up in a grin. "Well, well," he murmurs, startling when someone coughs behind him. "Oh, sorry," he mutters, realizing that a teenager is standing behind the cash register, waiting to take his order.

As soon as he's selected what he thinks sounds appetizing and pays, he turns towards the game, gripping the few dollars he'd gotten back in change. Captivated by the gaudy lights flashing and music playing once he feeds it a couple of dollars, he works the lever that controls the crane and aims it towards one of the toys that looks easiest to pull free, holding his breath. He succeeds on the first try, chuckling as it drops into the chute. By the time the food is ready, he's won a second one, but the first plushie is the one he's the happiest with, looking over at it with a pleased little smirk as he drives back to the hotel a few minutes later, anxious to get back to Alberto so they can eat the delicious smelling food and relax for awhile before they have to travel on to the next WWE event.

He enters quietly, trying not to bother his former employer in case he's asleep, but the older man is thankfully awake, staring up at him from where he's laying leisurely as he walks over to the bed. "Hola, Alberto," he says lowly, leaning over to kiss him. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Hmph, a little," he shrugs, sitting up. "The food smells good."

"Si, it does," Ricardo beams. "And..." He pulls out the stuffed animal from behind him and waves it at Alberto, watching as he takes in the heart-patterned Scooby Doo, his lips twitching up into a smile. "Happy Valentines Day early."

"Ay, you win so many things from those crane games," he mumbles, taking it from him and squeezing it while examining it closely. "Unfortunately I do not share your skills with it. If I did, perhaps I could surprise you with little toys now and again too..."

Ricardo shakes his head, settling in next to him on the bed as he unpacks the food. "See, as nice as that sounds, I kind of like it this way." Alberto looks confused, the former ring announcer smirking. "You already give me plenty, and this way I can give you something sometimes, even if it is just a silly toy... and besides, whenever you _do_ try your hand at the crane games, it just means we get to spend more time together while I try to show you the best way to work the machines."

Del Rio purses his lips at him and shakes his head, smiling slightly. "Well, you are a very patient teacher, mi valiente. Besides, you underestimate yourself. You've always given me everything I've ever wanted or needed, even when I was too blind to see it." Ricardo ducks his head, smiling sheepishly as he holds out Alberto's soup, making sure the other man has a good hold on the container before he lets go, next handing over a toasted sandwich, its cheese still warm and gooey, for him to dip in it if he wishes. "As I said," he murmurs, unwrapping the sandwich. "You think of everything."


	14. Interview

Ricardo Rodriguez is reluctant, unable to keep his displeasure over the situation to himself as he stares blankly into the distance, only able to glance at Alberto Del Rio now and again as he struggles to interview him. Every time Alberto moves too suddenly, he flinches away, as if he's expecting an attack, but the older man only talks about his past accomplishments and his intention to leave Wrestlemania with the Andre the Giant memorial trophy, sneering down at the younger man, eyes boring into his. When Alberto leaves, Ricardo pinches his nose in stress, mumbling to himself in Spanish.

His responsibilities done for the night, he returns to the hotel, relieved when the door flashes green to allow him in. He sighs and drops his keycard on the nearest table, wallet clattering next to it. His tired eyes trail around the room for a moment before he shrugs out of his street clothes. After pulling on a sweatshirt, he crawls into bed and rolls onto his stomach, hugging a pillow close while he scrolls through his Twitter timeline on his phone, trying to stay awake despite how comfortable and warm he's feeling. Despite his best attempts, he fails within minutes, phone slipping out of slack fingers as his eyes close tightly, regular breaths puffing against his arm..

He's so deeply asleep that he doesn't notice when the hotel room door opens, nor when familiar footsteps pad up to him, fingers tugging the phone out of his hand and laying it on the table. He _does_ stir slightly when soft lips rest on the back of his head, but it's not until something cold and wet drips against his neck that his eyes open and he gasps, quickly rolling over. "El Patron!"

"Si?" Del Rio mutters, leaning closer to him.

"You're freezing," he huffs, taking his hands and trying to chuff some warmth into them. "Did you go out without your coat again?"

"No," the Mexican aristocrat grumbles. "I had it on, it's just that those perros back at the arena used up all of the hot water. I had lukewarm at best, and it quickly became cold." Ricardo winces and works a little faster, looking into his face worriedly. "Lo siento, I didn't mean to freeze you... or startle you when you were asleep. I should've let you rest, you probably need it badly after that interview-"

Ricardo shrugs it off, lifting Alberto's hands and kissing his palms. "Don't worry about it, I understand why you wanted to do it that way. And as for a shower, I didn't have one so it should still be nice and hot for you, if you want to give it a try."

"No, but gracias, mi valiente. I've had more than enough of showers for one night." Ricardo frowns as he continues to shiver slightly, his hair not even completely dry yet. "I'll get warm on my own, no worries. I'll go sit by the heater if I have to... you should lay down and get some more sleep. Our flight is early tomorrow."

"Hm, yes it is," Ricardo mutters, using their current positions to his advantage, tangling his legs around Alberto and stubbornly holding on, keeping him in place when he tries to move away. As he shoots an inquisitive look at Ricardo, the former ring announcer smirks at him. "I have an idea, however." Barely five minutes later, Ricardo is now laying on his back on the bed, Alberto out of his thin dress clothes, dressed in warmer clothes of the ring announcer's, the younger man's hand gently stroking up and down his back as he breathes against Ricardo's shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he fights sleep, wanting to stay wrapped up in Ricardo's warmth for a little longer.

"I almost forgot," Del Rio mutters after a few minutes, peeking up at Ricardo.

"Hmm? Forgot what?"

"That we were just keeping pretenses up in that interview. You are too good of an actor sometimes, mi valiente." He lifts his hand and watches closely as Ricardo lays still, sighing as his palm rests against the side of his face, stroking down his neck. "Every time you flinched away from me..."

The former ring announcer cringes and tilts his face, kissing Alberto. "I'm so sorry, El Patron. I just wanted it to seem believable. I suppose I should've warned you, but it might've seemed less organic then-"

"No need to apologize," he whispers, wrapping an arm around him before snuggling back into his chest. "You played it perfectly, as always. I'm just glad we're alone now, and can still have these quiet moments despite everything that's happened the last few months."

Ricardo's smile is bittersweet but Del Rio doesn't notice as he buries his face where Ricardo's shoulder and neck meet. "I love you, El Patron."

Alberto's smile is obvious against Ricardo's jaw. "Gracias, mi valiente, I love you too." Ricardo takes to humming softly, rubbing his hand gently through Del Rio's damp, dark hair. "Buenos noches," he mumbles, seeming in no hurry to move from this position.

Ricardo softly laughs, happy that, even after all of this time, he can still do something for Alberto to keep him comfortable after one of his matches. "Buenos noches, El Patron."


	15. Care

Alberto Del Rio sighs, resting a heavy hand on the hotel room door as he shuts it behind him. Turning, he finds Ricardo Rodriguez sitting at the edge of the bed, head lowered so his dark hair shadows his eyes. The older man's heart breaks a little more as he pulls away from the door and walks towards him. "Mi valiente," he says softly.

Ricardo merely sniffs, looking away as Alberto kneels in front of him, hands resting on his knees. What of his face that is visible is tense in pain and Alberto sighs wearily as he cups his jaw and tries to make him look up. "Ricardo, let me help you," he whispers. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to..." He tries to touch Ricardo's arm, but the younger man recoils sharply, breathing heavily. Alberto immediately freezes and swallows. "Ricardo..."

"I know it was part of the plan, but..." he sobs quietly. "You- I thought you were going to break my arm. If Rob hadn't been there to stop you..." He releases another soft sob. "After my ankle, I just... I thought you'd be more careful."

Del Rio closes his eyes, feeling utterly horrible. "I am so sorry, mi valiente," he breathes out, tears glistening in his eyes. "I meant to be, I just... it... I'm so sorry." He once more reaches out and smiles through his tears as Ricardo allows the touch this time, staring down at him morosely. "I know I was going too far but I was so angry at Vickie Guerrero for putting us in that predictament to begin with... I know it's no explanation, that I shouldn't take it out on you."

Ricardo takes a breath as Alberto tenderly strokes his arm over the sling. "No, you shouldn't," he agrees brokenly.

Del Rio closes his eyes, sighing sadly. "Will you let me try to make this better?"

"How do you think you can?" he wonders quietly, still not quite able to look his former employer in the eye.

"Trust me?" he offers weakly, knowing again that it's maybe asking too much, especially after his actions tonight. "Por favor, mi valiente." Ricardo neither agrees nor disagrees and Alberto swallows, squeezing his knees gently before standing, determined to see this through.

The bathroom, he knows, is incredible because he had booked it especially for this reason, and so he goes there first, fiddling with settings on the jacuzzi until perfectly warm, almost hot, water is filling the porcelain. As soon as it's mostly filled, he returns to Ricardo and helps him to his feet, softly working the sling off before easing his shirt off over his sore arm. "Alright?"

"What are you doing?" he asks, breathing heavily while his arm throbs painfully at his side, Alberto helping him with the rest of his clothes as well.

"You'll see," he whispers, resting a hand on Ricardo's back as he guides him into the bathroom, staying quiet as the ring announcer takes it all in. "The jacuzzi is prepared just the way you like it, mi valiente."

Ricardo sniffs and glances at Alberto, taking in how he's still dressed. "Mostly," he murmurs, trying to hold his achy arm to his side as he approaches the tub, pondering how to enter safely.

This is all the invite Alberto requires as he holds a hand out, stopping Ricardo. "Uno momento," he says softly, quickly shrugging off his dress jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. Ricardo watches, wide eyed, as he leaves them and the rest of his clothes on the sink before turning back to the tub, gently stepping inside. "There we go." Ricardo swallows as Alberto reaches out for him, loosely gripping his bad arm and stabilizing him with his good, easing him into the tub so he doesn't slip and fall. As the warm water bubbles around his body, Alberto smiles at him, waiting for the verdict.

"Perfect," he finally admits, eyes closed in slow growing bliss.

Relieved, Alberto sits down and pulls him into the water gently until he's circled in the Mexican aristocrat's arms, Alberto kissing his jaw as he relaxes against him. "Just rest, mi valiente. I've got you." As the jets filter the water around them, Alberto leans over enough to snag a bottle of scented oil, rubbing it between his hands until it's warm. Ricardo is barely aware of what he's doing until his warm fingers rest on his tender shoulder, the ring announcer immediately jerking awake as he looks over at his former employer warily, half-asleep and confused. Swallowing down the pain this expression on Ricardo's face brings him, Alberto forces a smile. "It's ok, mi valiente. Just trust me."

After a few minutes of Alberto smoothing his fingers over the inflamed muscles and joints in his arm, Ricardo sighs and relaxes into his touch as the pain eases a little under his ministrations. "Lo siento," he murmurs after a few minutes. "I... shouldn't have doubted..."

"No, no, I don't blame you, mi valiente," he whispers back, pouring more of the oil into his palms. "Just relax. Everything will be alright." He continues to stroke his fingers down the younger man's arm, relieved that he seems to be feeling better as he tilts his head and nuzzles into Alberto's neck, breath warm and steady against his flesh. "I love you," he hums softly, still working over his arm even after the oil dries into his flesh, disinterested in moving to grab the bottle yet again. Ricardo seems content anyway, leaning against him while he carefully massages from his elbow to shoulder and back down.

"I love you too," he sighs sleepily.

When Alberto's hands slow against his arm, Ricardo's eyes lazily open, eyelashes fluttering against the Mexican aristocrat's throat, and he smiles, shifting slightly to kiss him. "Ready to get out?" he asks, smiling against the ticklish sensation.

"Si," he mutters after a few moments, loathe for Alberto to stop holding him. "This was nice... gracias, El Patron."

Alberto smiles and grips the side of the tub, shifting out from under Ricardo to get to his feet and grab a couple of towels, wrapping one haphazardly around himself before turning to the younger man and easing him out of the water, lightly rubbing the other against his flesh to help dry him. "Come, come. Let's go rest in the main room for awhile." He leads him out to the bed and helps him settle down, gently guiding his bad arm back into the sling to ensure that he won't hurt himself further. "Are you hungry?"

Ricardo swallows and watches as he approaches the room service menu, casting a quick glance over the options there. "Si, I... I think... A little."

Alberto glances up at him a moment before smiling sadly. "Alright, I'll order us something. Close your eyes and rest, I'll let you know when it's here." As Ricardo follows his suggestion, his weariness quickly drawing him into the dark numbness of sleep, the Mexican aristocrat grabs the hotel phone and places the call, relieved that the kitchen hasn't closed just yet, and even more so that it'll take around half an hour for everything to be prepared and brought up, giving the ring announcer time to just be. He hangs the phone up and turns back to the bed, eyes gleaming with love and sadness as he takes in the tight pain remaining on Ricardo's face. Slipping into bed next to him, he's careful not to jostle him as he hugs him and trails a soft kiss against his cheek. "Lo siento, mi valiente. There's not much I can do to make this up to you, but I'll try," he promises, watching him sleep until there's a knock at the door almost twenty minutes later.

He gently pulls away from Ricardo and heads for the door, thanking the hotel worker as he pulls the cart into the room, Alberto content to tip him generously when he turns to find that the noise had been kept to enough of a minimum that Ricardo is still asleep. Once he's gone, Alberto crawls onto the bed once more and trails soft, searching kisses along Ricardo's lips and jaw, smiling when he starts to stir underneath him. "Food's here," he tells him quietly. Ricardo yawns and rubs at his face with his good hand, frowning down at his other arm for a moment before his face falls, remembering what had happened. Del Rio's eyes darken as he cups the younger man's face and looks into his fearful, glum features. "Lo siento, Ricardo. Please forgive me..."

"I do," he murmurs finally, surprising his former employer. Squeezing Alberto's wrist with his one useable hand, he looks over his shoulder at the table. "What did you order?"

"Pot roast," he says, moving to collect their plates. "It's something different from what we usually eat, at any rate." As he settles back into bed next to Ricardo, he chuckles and shakes his head when the ring announcer reaches out for his. "No, no, mi valiente. Just give me a moment, hm?" He turns and collects something off of the bedside table, putting it on Ricardo's side of the bed. "Diet coke to drink... and now, there's only one thing I want you to do." He smiles down at the younger man. "Lay there and rest... I will help you to eat, hm?"

"Oh- uh, no, you've already done plenty tonight, it's not-"

"Ricardo," Alberto cuts off his suddenly frantic-sounding refusals. "I would do it all over again if it'd make up even the slightest for my earlier actions. I should've been more careful, I truly meant to be. But my anger yet again got the best of me and you paid for it. Allow me a little time to pamper you, as you have done for me so many times over the years. Por favor?"

Ricardo's shoulders slump as he forks up some of the meat and vegetables, waiting for Ricardo's verdict. "Si," he finally whispers, wanting nothing more than to take that guilty look out of Del Rio's eyes. "Fine, gracias." Alberto merely smiles and leans over, taking it in turns between feeding him and eating some of the delicious food himself.

By the time they've ate the majority of what's on their plates, Ricardo's eyes are fluttering shut again, Alberto pausing to watch as he drifts, nodding sleepily even as he tries to sip from the Coke bottle in a valiant attempt to stay awake even a little longer. He chuckles warmly and collects the soda before it can slip from his fingers, surprising him enough to open his eyes for a moment. "You're exhausted, mi valiente." He kisses the top of his head before getting up, putting their plates back on the tray and rolling the cart out into the hall to be picked up by the staff whenever. When he returns to the bed, Ricardo's eyes are only open a sliver and he chuckles warmly, crawling in under the covers next to the younger man.

"El Patron," he mutters, gingerly rolling over to face him. Alberto tsks at him and carefully guides his arm once more out of the sling, not wanting him to get tangled up in it in his sleep. He rests it on the table before clicking the lamp off, sending the room into nearly perfect darkness before laying on his back, head tilting to watch as Ricardo dozes next to him. He stirs yet again, however, a few minutes later, and shifts closer to the Mexican aristocrat, laying his head on his shoulder as he stretches his bad arm out across his midsection.

Alberto shakes his head fondly, hoping that his restlessness won't keep him from getting a good amount of sleep, pressing his free hand on Ricardo's wrist before continuing to lightly massage his way up his arm to his shoulder, Ricardo's tense muscles slowly relaxing under his touch. This seems to help, Ricardo staying fast asleep until Alberto too succumbs to some much needed rest himself.


	16. Lucky

Ricardo Rodriguez stares blankly at the inky dark, October sky. Rob Van Dam had just left him in the lurch, taking his promises and all of his claims of _Numero uno amigo_ with him, taking away all of his options in the business. Alberto Del Rio's idea to free him, Rob's decision to leave _to get his head on straight_ , leaving him now with nothing: no employer, no prospects as he's rarely gotten booked in wrestling matches in the past three years, and no idea where to go from here.

He buries his face in his hands, glumly breathing in the cool air, when footsteps move towards him, his lips twitching slightly as he recognizes the sound- then the feel as someone sits down next to him, a warm arm wrapping around his shoulders and squeezing softly. "Mi valiente." He doesn't respond immediately, Alberto's presence not leaving him, but eventually he twists around and presses his face against Alberto's shoulder, the older man's fingers carding through his hair softly. "It's going to be ok. You were too good for Rob Van Dam anyway. He just proved that tonight," he tells him softly.

Ricardo winces, not truly wanting to discuss the highflyer with Alberto, pulling away slightly. "El Patron, would you... um..." He stalls, uncomfortable in even asking such a thing, though he knows it needs to be asked now if he's going to convince the Mexican aristocrat to follow through with what he had been considering since Rob had made his intentions known.

"Would I what?" Del Rio asks, cupping his jaw and making him look up, their eyes locking. "What is it, Ricardo?"

His eyes start to fill with tears as he considers, yet again, the weight of what he's about to request of the man before him. "Take me out tomorrow on Raw," he says shakily. "However real you feel like you have to make it, just... just do _something_ so it's an easy sell for people to think I'm injured." Alberto looks truly startled, nearly sick at the request, but Ricardo leans forward and looks him in the eye. "I don't want to be Ricardo Rodriguez anymore. I want... I want to try to get booked, as El Local. Something, anything..."

Del Rio releases a faint, pained groan as he holds onto Ricardo tighter, shaking his head. "Is it really that bad, mi valiente? You don't... see any other way...?"

Ricardo scrambles to his knees, forcing Alberto to face his desperation and weariness directly. "I really don't," he whispers, shaking his head grimly as he strokes Del Rio's arms. "Por favor, El Patron... if I thought any other way would work, if I could find another possibility without making you do this, I would, but... I can't think of anything else." He falters at the level of pain in Alberto's eyes and grimaces, kissing him quickly. "Never mind, never mind. I'll find someone else to do it, I'll think of something-"

"No," Del Rio says rigidly, clinging to Ricardo's wrists before he can try to move away. "I trust no one but myself with anything of this nature... The others won't bother to try to protect you the way I will... I can... at least do that much. So you can try to get booked, if we play this correctly."

Ricardo sucks in a deep breath and stares at him adoringly. "Are you sure, El Patron? If it's too much-"

"I would do anything for you, mi valiente. Even this... if it's what you truly think needs to be done." He pats the younger man's face and tries to smile through the pain of what the next night will thus bring them. "But if I truly start to hurt you, give me a sign. Pinch me, or say something in Spanish, whatever you can think of to get through to me. I don't want to take things too far ever again." He rests his hand on Ricardo's mostly mended arm and massages it lightly through his sleeve, smiling sadly at the ring announcer as he nods, nervously.

"Si, El Patron," he murmurs, leaning against him so they can take in the sky for awhile longer before they have to go inside and prepare their plans for Raw. "Muchas gracias."

As it happens, Vickie makes things a little easier for them- throws Ricardo in a match against Del Rio, and then angers the Mexican aristocrat by announcing his returning rival, Cena, and his opportunity at the World title at the following PPV. Alberto is angry, more so when Ricardo takes the opportunity, playing their act to the hilt, and rolls him up into a pin. The beat down that follows is brutal, and Ricardo isn't sure that Alberto remembers their goal sometimes, though he never quite gets scared enough to pinch him. The entire chair thing worries him, yes, but he knows as soon as Alberto clicks it into place that it's adjusted just so that it won't actually snap his arm, just pinch his flesh enough to look painful. No matter how many times he stomps and Ricardo writhes, no serious damage is caused, just minor bruising.

Alberto sneaks into the trainer's office not long afterwards, and smiles sadly down at him as he holds ice to his arm and another is pressed against his back where he'd slammed into the table with so much force. "I didn't go too far, did I?" he asks softly, ruffling Ricardo's hair as he sits down next to him on the cot.

"No, I'm fine," he says, leaning into the older man. "Gracias, I knew you would do exactly what I needed you to."

"I hope it works out the way you wish for it to, mi valiente," Del Rio tells him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead while they listen to the bustle of the arena beyond those doors. "Neh, Cena."

"Lo siento, I didn't know she was going to use that against you during our match," he tells him. "If I had, perhaps..."

"No, mi valiente, it's fine. What better way to go out as Ricardo Rodriguez than with a victory against the World Heavyweight Champion, hm?" He smiles slightly, patting the younger man's back gently. "I hope you find all the success you're looking for as El Local."

"Gracias," Ricardo whispers, smiling as he leans against his former employer's side, both man's thoughts heavy with what they've orchestrated this evening, and what it might or might not bring.

That Friday, Ricardo arrives at the arena alone in his El Local gear and stares up at the building, nervousness gnawing at his stomach as he drags himself out of the vehicle and walks inside, trying not to succumb to his anxiety. He's only taken a few steps down the hall when he notices Alberto a few feet away, lips twitching up into a smile as the older man nods discreetly at him. He's not sure he'll be booked tonight, but he's here to catch someone's eye, and perhaps it'll be a start, build to something more in the weeks to come. He's playing with his wrist tape, wondering when exactly he'll need it, when the locker room door opens. Silence reigns through the room until finally Vickie's voice breaks into his thoughts once more, causing him to tense up.

"You, in the red," she calls out to him, shocking him. "Come here." He blinks rapidly as he stands and turns towards her, muted in shock that perhaps she had already figured him out. "Yes you, get over here." He joins her and she peers up at him shrewdly. "What's your name?"

"El Local. I... I've competed in NXT mostly," he says, hoping that the mask distorts his voice enough that she won't recognize him.

"I see," she says, seeming unimpressed with him. "Well, find a tag partner. I need opponents for Los Matadores and everyone else here is booked, so you'll do."

It's not a ringing endorsement, but he thinks it'll do. For now. "Si, gracias," he chokes out, quickly leaving to do as she'd suggested. But instead of actually taking the time to look for a tag partner for the evening, he instead ventures into the quieter part of the arena, knocking quickly on the door of the World title holder's locker room. When Alberto answers, he slips inside, smiling up at his true partner. "I've been booked into a match tonight." He laughs as Alberto's entire face lights up, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. "I never expected it to happen this quickly..." He tugs at Del Rio's suit and sighs.

"Maybe this all was worth it then, hm?" the Mexican aristocrat asks him softly, beaming down at him as he gently rubs his arm, remembering all of the bruises from Monday still there, hidden by his sleeves and elbow pads.

"Maybe," Ricardo agrees. "I miss traveling with you and spending every hour with you, but this... this will be good, I think. It's a start anyway." He grips Alberto's hand and squeezes gently, eyes shining behind his mask. "I don't know if I'll win, I don't even know who my partner will be, but I just... I wanted to share this bit of luck with you."

Alberto leans in and kisses him, smiling. "I'm happy you're happy, mi valiente. Win or lose, I know you'll do your very best tonight, and that's the important thing."

Ricardo chuckles softly and rests against him, happy to remain as close to him for as long as possible until he has to go figure out who his tag partner is going to be.


	17. Explanations

Ricardo Rodriguez stares blankly ahead as he sits at the hotel room desk, trying to make sense of his thoughts and feelings as he halfheartedly sketches. He knows Alberto Del Rio is somewhere behind him, doing whatever before he prepares for bed, but the former ring announcer can't bring himself to care right now. It hadn't been a great night for him.

He'd lost a match as El Local earlier in the evening, but that disappointment had been nothing in comparison to what he'd felt when he'd watched Alberto trying to charm Vickie Guerrero to get out of competing against Cena for his World title. The General Manager had requested he kiss her and Alberto had complied, first a somewhat chaste kiss, then a slightly more thorough one, though no less awkward. But his discomfort with the situation hadn't mattered to Ricardo- that he had done such a thing anyway had left him steaming, unable to believe that his former employer had done it at all, especially in such a public format, where he knows that Ricardo would be watching.

Sandow, for once, had been a welcome sight, and Ricardo had fought down his emotions while watching the match that followed, eyes dark and glum as the rest of Smackdown carries on. When Alberto returned to the locker room, pleased about his defeating Sandow, Ricardo had barely spoken, Alberto's face falling slightly when he saw the look in his eyes.

He gives him some time to himself at the hotel before approaching him. "Ah, mi valiente, I'm sorry about your loss." He hugs him from behind, not noticing how tense he still seems. "I'm sure you'll get them next time, hm?"

"Right," Ricardo mutters, his pencil scribbling angry grey lines against the paper, tearing it and ruining the picture he had been working on. "Next time. Sure."

Finally cottoning on that something more is wrong here, Alberto cups his hand and takes the pencil from him, pulling the chair he's sitting on back so he can fit on the desk, facing him. "Mi valiente, what's wrong? Something other than your match-"

"Did you enjoy kissing her?" he asks bitterly, staring down at his hands. "Vickie Guerrero? Did you enjoy the attention she was giving you- would you want to do it again-?"

Alberto looks like he's been punched, trying and failing to grab the other man's hands, Ricardo moving away from him with a frenzied, almost scared look in his eye. "What? Ricardo-"

"Just tell me the truth, Alberto. I know how much your title means to you, but... more than me? Really?" He grimaces and fights tears. "After everything we've been through, you can't even find another way outside of humilating me by kissing someone else on national TV... not once but three times?"

"Ricardo-"

"Was all of this just... pity? You claimed you loved me fresh off of Sheamus' brogue kick that jacked my neck up so badly, then took such good care of me when Big Show kept attacking me, and Swagger broke my ankle. I thought it was because you really loved me, but I... can't help but wonder now, when it's so easy for you to kiss someone else in front of tens of thousands of people... Did you even consider what that would do to me? Where my mind would go when I saw that?" His shoulders shake as he drops down on the bed and scrubs at his face, trying still not to cry. "I... I would never-"

Alberto swallows and approaches him, pain etched across his face. "I know you wouldn't, but- Ricardo, por favor-" The ring announcer doesn't move, doesn't react, as Del Rio kneels down in front of him, careful not to crowd him. "It wasn't pity, everything I've ever said to you regarding my feelings is sincere. I would never lie to you about such things. You have to believe me-"

"Do I?" he asks, voice muffled through his fingers.

Del Rio looks away, fighting his aggravation- with himself, with Vickie Guerrero, with the entire situation regarding Cena and his World title. He understands why Ricardo would feel betrayed, lied to, after everything they'd been through, but it still hurts. When he tries to convince him again, his voice is slightly shaking, fearing that it won't be enough. That Ricardo won't buy what he's saying, take his things, and leave. They're not even connected professionally anymore, so if he chose to leave, Alberto couldn't use a contractual obligation to bring him back. "Mi valiente, please. I have no feelings for Vickie, I have no feelings for anyone but you. You have been by my side through everything, good times and bad, and I would've been lost so many times without you. Vickie Guerrero has been nothing but a terror to both of us for years, constantly belittling you, sticking me in impossible situations. As if my taste in romantic interests would ever be that questionable." His voice trails away as he rests his hands on Ricardo's knees, lightly squeezing. "I aspire to have nothing but the best in my life, so why would I downgrade so sharply?"

The younger man peeks through his fingers, staring down at Alberto, shudders rattling through him. "Re- really?"

"Si! Si, of course, look at me. I'm not lying to you, I know I took it too far by kissing her, and I am so, so sorry for that, mi valiente, but things have not been easy for me either. I miss working alongside you, Ricardo, and I can't lose my World title as well... so I reacted in the moment, and I have regretted it every moment since." He gets back to his feet and settles down on the bed next to Ricardo. "Could you ever forgive me, mi valiente? And if there's anything I can do to make that easier, tell me, por favor, I'll do anything you ask of me..."

Ricardo breathes in deeply and ducks his head. "Could you just... just hold me...?" he asks wearily, Alberto staring at what of his face he can see.

"Of course," he mutters quietly, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against his chest. "I've got you. Everything's going to be ok." He strokes his fingers through Ricardo's hair, lightly kissing the top of his head. "Lo siento, lo siento," he whispers, closing his eyes as Ricardo starts to cry against him. "Oh, mi valiente. Talk to me."

"It's just- I wasn't expecting any of this when I... I agreed to... cut our professional ties. How much it would hurt," he sniffs. "How hard it would be, without you by my side... I..." He chokes. "Seeing you with Vickie, I know it didn't really mean anything, but... I miss you and I'm afraid the more time we spend apart, the more you'll enjoy your freedom, and..."

Alberto stares down at him in shock and shakes his head. "Ay, Ricardo, never. Who is it I always find first thing as soon as I'm backstage after a match or segment? I hate every second we're apart, and I want no one else by my side to celebrate my victories with, or to comfort me after I lose. And, hey, I promise you," he breathes, tilting Ricardo's chin up so he can look him in the eye. "I will _never_ do anything like this again, si? No matter what's on the line, I will make sure to never put this expression on your face again." He gently wipes the tears off of Ricardo's cheeks and smiles down at him, leaning in towards him. "Trust me?" he asks a couple of inches from his lips, searching his eyes.

It takes a minute, Ricardo staring up at him wonderingly, but his simple, one worded answer eases some of the pain and guilt from Alberto. "Si," he breathes, nodding.

Alberto smiles at him and bridges the gap between them, kissing him warmly, the natural, perfect moment so unlike his forced ones with Vickie not lost on either of them. "I love you, mi valiente."

Ricardo smiles and wraps his arms around him, sighing softly as Alberto hugs him back. "And I love you, El Patron."


	18. Learning

Alberto shifts and stirs, groggy and disoriented. His dark eyes blink a time or two, hands sprawling out across the bed in search of... something, someone. He yawns and sits up, frowning to find that the spot next to him is empty, cool. Clearly abandoned long ago. "Ricardo?" he mumbles, kicking the sheets away and stumbling out of his bedroom. Ricardo's room is empty as well, and his confusion turns to worry as he wanders down the hall and finds Sofia in the kitchen, preparing lunch. He smiles slightly when he realizes it's well past 9 AM, but breakfast is still waiting for him, even if it's just homemade muffins and fruit. "Hola, Sofia, buenos dias," he offers, voice still thick with sleep as he takes a seat.

"Buenos dias, senor," she returns, smiling over her shoulder at him as she continues preparing chicken.

He stares at her for a moment, picking at a lemon muffin. "Ay, Sofia, have you seen Ricardo this morning?" He doesn't like seeming needy, but waking up without the ring announcer by his side had left him confused, floundering. Based on the smile that she fails at hiding, he's pretty sure she knows where the younger man is at. "Sofia, where is he?"

She hesitates, still spreading spices and herbs along the chicken before looking up at him. "Senor, I think he should be the one to tell you."

"Is it a surprise?" Del Rio wonders, unable to resist. He likes surprises, despite being well into his 30s, considering a man of his bearing and financial stability is usually the one to treat others to such things. She purses her lips, however, and turns back to her meal plans, clearly determined not to tell him anything else. He makes a face at her back before finishing off his muffin. "Perhaps I will go look for him on my own then," he tells her, dusting his hands off and returning to his bedroom to get dressed. Her lack of response still makes him huff out a breath as he searches his closet, deciding not to go all out in dress clothes as he's not sure what Ricardo is doing, exactly. He pulls on jeans and one of those shirts Ricardo had ordered from an online site with the two of them in chibi form, running a comb through his hair before he grabs one of his many sets of car keys just in case and ducks outside.

He wanders for awhile but his grounds are quiet, untouched by anything but dew and animals, so he quickly gives up that thought, especially when none of the lawn staff have seen Ricardo out this way, so he goes instead to one of the garages and selects a car, peeling out of his driveway after entering the security code at the gate. He's not sure where to look, exactly, checking all of Ricardo's typical favorite places, before he drives past the NXT training facility. Something makes him stop and return, frowning up at the building as he parks. "Hmm..." Mumbling to himself in Spanish, he exits the car and walks inside, glancing around at the facility. He tries to avoid this place, never thrilled with the time he'd spent in developmental, but something is calling to him now, so he follows his instincts.

There are a number of people scattered around, doing whatever it is they do here, his eyes trailing disinterestedly over them... before he spots a familiar form among them, dark hair and focused eyes locked on the nearby trainers, explaining to them what they're to do today. He stares on in shock before finding a seat out of sight of the ring, settling in to watch as the session carries on. Thankfully, everyone here knows to avoid him, especially when he glares warningly at them, so his presence isn't made public to the others who are training. This allows him to watch the duration of the training, his eyes locked on one person in particular, a proud little smirk on his face as they easily manage each practice thrown their way.

Once the group's time in the ring is wrapping up, Alberto stands up and makes sure he's visible, eyebrows raising when Ricardo exits the ring and turns just to come face to face with him, jumping backwards slightly. "Eh- eh, El Patron!" he gasps, eyes wide. "I... I, uh..."

Alberto laughs, resting his hands on his shoulders. "You, you uh what, mi valiente?" Ricardo is still gaping up at him in shock and Alberto decides to put him out of his misery, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his mouth. "This is where you've been all morning? Sofia wouldn't tell me... but somehow I ended up here, and guess who I see, but you..." He searches Ricardo's face with a fond smile. "But, Ricardo, why wouldn't you just tell me? I was confused when I woke up this morning and you were gone, I thought neither of us had plans today..."

The younger man swallows harshly and looks down, seeming ashamed of himself. "I, it's just... I didn't want to tell you that I've decided to begin training, I wanted to wait until I had something substantial to show for it..." He sighs. "I want to compete, I want to wrestle. This is hopefully the first step towards gaining attention, achieving that."

Alberto's smile slips at the hesitant, uncomfortable look on Ricardo's face, realization dawning on him. It had only been a few weeks ago that Del Rio had attacked him, taken him off of TV. Since, he had only been booked sparingly as El Local, and not at all in the last couple weeks. Of course he was going to start doing this, try another way to get booked into matches, even if just on NXT... "Oh, mi valiente, I didn't mean to make you feel bad- I shouldn't have barged in like this, but I honestly didn't know you were going to be here. If I had known how you felt about it..." He releases a deep breath and tugs Ricardo closer, kissing his forehead. "By what I've seen, you're already doing fantastic... I like watching you in the ring, but if you feel more at ease without my watching, I understand."

"I do, I- It makes me happy that you want to watch my progress, but..." He falters for a moment and shakes his head, smiling sheepishly. "You intimidate people on a good day, El Patron, and normally I'm more than fine with that, but not when I'm trying to train, si? And besides, if we're seen together too often, what will come of your idea for us to be separate professionally?"

Alberto winces, releases a breath. "True, mi valiente. You have a point. I was just... worried when I woke up this morning and you were gone, I wasn't truly thinking straight." He strokes Ricardo's neck and sighs. "But even so, I'm thrilled that you have taken this step, I have no doubt it will bring you much success." He smiles down at him. "Although we shouldn't be seen together too much in WWE halls, I know somewhere where we can go that such things will be alright." Ricardo looks curious as Alberto wraps an arm around him and leads him back to the locker rooms so he can shower and change before they leave.

While he waits on Ricardo, he calls Sofia, remembering the chicken she had been preparing, and encouraging her to store it until closer to supper time, as their lunch plans have changed. She's agreeable, thankfully, and his face lights up into a brilliant smile when Ricardo returns, his hair still damp and free of all product, making him look even younger as he stuffs the clothes he'd worn while training back in his bag. "So where are we going, El Patron?" he asks, turning to smile back at his former employer.

"Well, mi valiente, I kept hearing about this new sushi place that someone wants to try out and I figure... what better day than today, to celebrate how well he did in training by doing just that? Hmm? Does that sound good?"

Ricardo's eyes widen and he nods, hurriedly lifting his bag and moving quickly to Alberto's side. "Si, I've been wanting to go there for so long, El Patron! Muchas gracias."

Alberto smiles down at him, his eyes gleaming as he leans in and kisses him. "My pleasure, mi valiente," he whispers, hugging him warmly. "Let's go then, and you can tell me more about your training." He chuckles warmly as Ricardo's grin grows, the two of them walking side by side to the exit as Ricardo begins to do just that, Alberto's arm wrapped snugly around his shoulders. Alberto absentmindedly pushes the door open as Ricardo's hand reaches up and curls around his while it hangs off of his shoulder, squeezing lightly, Del Rio's teeth flashing as he grins too, staring fondly down at the other man.


	19. Comfort

Alberto suspects it's what he deserves. This abrupt loss of his World title, having to walk back through the halls empty handed, and with no one by his side to soften the blow. _That perro, John Cena,_ he thinks grimly. He doesn't even catch a glimpse of Ricardo on his way back to his room, because the younger man had opted to remain at the hotel. Watch the PPV from there, since he was still in the process of catching back up with his training and had only traveled out to keep Alberto company.

As lonely as the arena feels without him, Alberto is almost glad he's not here to perhaps get caught up in the maelstrom of his rage as he angrily collects his things from the World champion's locker room for the last time, staring around at what soon will be cluttered by Cena's nonsense. He releases a heavy breath and stares darkly at the monitor before seeking out his phone, thinking perhaps he could call Ricardo, try to calm down through a quick conversation with him... but he pauses, seeing text alerts from Twitter flashing there, and accesses the messages, wondering what could possibly be said from someone important enough to be on his alert list- Ricardo, and Memo, and a scarce few others-

All possibilities are wiped from his mind as he sees what had his phone lit up. A tweet, from Ricardo... congratulating Cena, and thanking him. He pales, shakes his head and rereads it, trying to convince himself that his mind's playing tricks on him, that he's so far addled from the loss and the physicality of the match that he's just imagining things... but no, the words are still there, still as damning as they were a moment earlier. "Ay, no," he mumbles, sitting down heavily. He only remains for a brief while, however, knowing that he needs to leave, that soon techs will be by ensuring that he's vacated the so-called new champion's locker room.

He wanders, once he finds himself out of the room, his bag dangling from his hand. Down hallways, through groups of staff making sure the show concludes successfully, outside. His car is nearby, he can see it gleaming in the lights overhead, but he walks past it and down a sidewalk, not minding the weight of his bag in his hand or the people who recognize him and mutter, whispering behind their hands. Some yell at him, but he doesn't stop, nor turn to look. All that keeps replaying in his mind is Ricardo's tweet to Cena. _Has he secretly been bitter towards me this entire time, or is he merely just holding true to our professional dissolution?_ He walks until his legs throb, already aching from the match, then has to turn around and backtrack to the arena to get his car, but he barely notices because, really, it's always been the emotional agony that has far exceeded the physical.

Their hotel room is dark, quiet, when he limps inside, and he's vacantly thrown to see that the clock says it's nearly midnight. He releases a faint breath, drops his bag by the door and wanders inside, comforted immediately by the familiar sound of Ricardo's steady breathing. But the former ring announcer isn't in the bed, and Alberto's eyes furrow as he tracks each inhale and exhale, finally spotting him nearby on the sofa. He smiles faintly, knowing that he sits up for Alberto and tends to fall asleep if he's out too late, wandering closer to him with a sad gleam in his eyes as he wonders how many times he's come home to a similar sight. Resting his hand on top of Ricardo's head, he strokes his hair lightly and leans in, kissing his forehead before he spots the iPad resting on his chest.

Tugging it from his slack fingers, he settles it on the nearby table and sits down next to Ricardo, unsurprised when he automatically curls in close to Alberto, his fingers tangling into the folds of his scarf. Somewhere along the line, the ring announcer must wake up because he murmurs, "El Patron?"

"Mm hmm." They sit quietly for a moment, Ricardo's breathing warm against Alberto's throat, the Mexican aristocrat's fingers gentle against his scalp, but finally he pulls back- not enough to escape Alberto's touch, but just enough to look up- and catches his eye.

"I'm sorry you lost tonight."

Alberto says nothing for a long moment, his fingers stilling against Ricardo's hair. "Right," he says lowly, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the couch, suddenly exhausted to the bone. He reconsiders having not just going to bed and leaving Ricardo to sleep here.

Ricardo's eyes widen at the subtle disbelief in his voice before glancing at his iPad. Realization and shame courses through him as he realizes. "Maldita sea, I forgot- you have text alerts on your phone."

"Si," Alberto confirms wearily.

"I- I... No, no, no, El Patron, I deleted those tweets! I realized how pathetic it was, I- they're gone, I swear to you. I didn't... didn't mean it like that, I just thought it would confirm to people that we are truly done and over with on a professional level. I don't enjoy for one moment that you've lost your title, I know how much it means to you, por favor-" He scrambles, leaning over Alberto to collect his iPad and show him that he's being honest, the tweets are gone, but Del Rio doesn't let him move, wrapping an arm around his chest and holding him in place. "Eh, El Patron-"

He chuckles slowly and shifts to look at Ricardo, a tired smile on his face. "Relax, mi valiente. Yes, at first the words were like a punch to my gut, but I do not hold them against you. I realized what you were trying to accomplish while I was driving here... Besides, after everything I have done and said that hurt you since we orchestrated this entire thing, I have no place to hold an impulsive tweet against you. Especially one that you apparently deleted as soon as you realized how wrong it was." He lightly strokes his fingers down Ricardo's palm and leans closer to him. "Just, no matter what happens from here on..."

Ricardo blinks, shuddering a little at the squirmy, tickling sensation traveling down his wrist, while staring at Alberto. "Si?"

"Never tweet anything pro-Cena again, si, mi valiente?"

"Si, definitely not," he agrees easily, smiling when Alberto kisses him.

"Let's go to bed now, this sofa is horrible." Alberto smiles as Ricardo nods eagerly and gets off of him, holding a hand out to the older man. Lacing his fingers with Ricardo's, he allows himself to be pulled upright and the two of them walk side by side to the bed to get some proper sleep before Raw tomorrow, Del Rio determined to get his title back somehow, someway.


	20. Encouragement

Ever since RVD had left and Ricardo hadn't been used on TV, a change has come over Alberto. Subtle at first but growing with time as his match against Cena loomed. The former ring announcer hadn't thought much of it at first, but after the PPV, after Cena defeats Alberto for the title, it becomes clear. Especially when Ricardo wakes up on Monday morning and finds Alberto still in bed, seeming quite content just to lay next to him and doze. Worried, he leans over and strokes his hair, kisses his forehead. "El Patron," he whispers. When his dark eyes open and lock on Ricardo, the former ring announcer smiles slightly, relieved that he's awake. "You need to get up," he tells him simply. "It's Monday, you have to go travel to Raw... your flight is soon, si?"

Alberto yawns and shakes his head, rolling over and wrapping an arm around Ricardo, burying his face in the younger man's neck. "No," he murmurs sleepily. "I'm not going." He hadn't wanted to face Cena, he hadn't wanted to be Superman's return match. Not because he was scared, but because Cena bores him. The entire _company_ bores him. Especially when Ricardo's attempt at being booked had fizzled out before given a real chance to catch on. So if he opts instead to spend the day in bed, blocking out the world and hugging his former ring announcer, so be it.

Except that Ricardo is worried and when Ricardo's worried, it means Sofia's worried, which is something both of them try to avoid. "But El Patron," he insists, running his fingers through Alberto's hair again. "You need to go to Raw. I know it's annoying, especially now, but you can't win your world title back unless you're there to challenge Cena, remind people that Alberto Del Rio will fight for his goals."

Del Rio groans vaguely and pulls away from the younger man, looking up at him once more. "You don't want me to stay at home, Ricardo?" Beneath the slight snap of his voice, there lies weariness and a little bit of hurt, Ricardo's eyes widening in realization. "I am tired of this, mi valiente. Time away from you, the same old song and dance with Cena that I feel like I've been struggling to get free of for two years, and now I have to fight to get the title back yet again. This is not my destiny, I don't know what this is, but there has to be something else- something better..."

Ricardo cups his face, searches his eyes. "El Patron, you've never been one to give up, in all of the years I've known you," he tells him quietly. "No matter who or what stood in your way, you'd dust yourself off and fight even harder until you achieved your goals. I'll be on the road with you again soon, but for now, you can't let that hinder you. I'll find my place either on TV, or in NXT, and everything will be alright."

Alberto sighs, his eyes lowered as Ricardo's words wash over him, reminding him of all of the years they'd spent side by side, fighting for just the slightest recognition in the high-paced, stressful world of the WWE. He looks back up and examines Ricardo's face, understanding abruptly. _I can't allow it all to be for nothing, I can't allow Ricardo's willingness to focus on my career and needs over his own for the last few years be meaningless._ He feels himself nodding before he realizes just what he's doing, the smile dawning on the younger man's face making the decision easier for him. "Very well, I will fly out shortly... but I'll miss you, mi valiente."

"I'll miss you too, El Patron," Ricardo nods. "But we'll sort it out, select a day when both of us are free to spend it at home, doing absolutely whatever you want." He smiles as Alberto leans in and kisses him before pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against Ricardo's, their eyes closed as they absorb strength from the other. "I love you."

"I love you too," Del Rio murmurs, offering him one more kiss before he gets up and pads off to the bathroom to get ready to leave for Raw, prepare for his rematch against Cena... to get his world title back once more.


	21. Knowledge

It's early Friday morning when Alberto wakes up to find Ricardo pressed close to him, still fast asleep with an arm around Alberto's waist. He smiles and checks the clock, pursing his lips as he remembers an over the phone interview he has to take shortly. But they have a little bit of time so he tilts his head and watches as Ricardo sleeps on peacefully, his lips twitching into a fond smile as he reaches out and brushes hair out of Ricardo's face, the younger man not even stirring at his touch. He sighs and looks out at the late November weather, pondering the upcoming holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Years, and...

"Stop thinking so hard, El Patron," Ricardo's drowsy voice finally cuts into his thoughts, Alberto turning to stare at him as he shifts upwards, resting his head on Alberto's shoulder as he too looks out of the window. "Looks nice outside."

"Si, too bad we have to fly out to colder states for Smackdown," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Ricardo's head. "But first, remember what I have to handle soon this morning, mi valiente?"

He thinks for a moment, rubbing at his eyes. "Eh, phone interviews?"

"Si," Alberto nods, stroking Ricardo's hair. "I'm unsure what questions they'll be asking... But if you don't want to listen, I understand. I'm sure Sofia has breakfast cooking, and-"

"No, I'll stay," he murmurs, his eyes slipping shut once more as he curls into Alberto's warmth. "I know not to take anything personally." One of the hot topics still on most people's minds were their former partnership, even though nothing had happened between them in public since October 5th when Ricardo had last been on TV sans a mask. He smiles slightly, only able to imagine the general reaction if they knew the truth.

"Alright," Alberto murmurs, still sounding a bit uncertain. Even so, when the phone rings, he's careful not to dislodge Ricardo from his arm as he reaches out and answers it. "Hola." After some exchanged pleasantries, they get into the meat of the interview, which is fairly simple, commonplace. They ask about his toughest opponents, his opinion on a few people and situations, then they ask about Ricardo. His voice catches in his throat and he glances down at the sleepy man, slowly blinking awake at the lengthy pause Alberto is trapped in, but their eyes lock and Alberto finally finds his words. He claims not to care, that he's forgotten Ricardo already, and although Ricardo doesn't say or do anything, some light fades from his eyes. No matter how fake the words are, Alberto knows how much it hurts to hear them, especially considering the things that Ricardo had had to say about him to sell it back in August. It disgusts him that it's been over three months and they're still stuck trying to convince people that they're not a unit anymore... why, he's not even sure any longer.

The attempt had failed, both men were in worse places career wise than before, but he's not sure how to fix it any longer, those in WWE seeming content with keeping them apart. _Probably because they know together, we're unstoppable,_ he thinks, stroking Ricardo's arm as he wraps the interview up with a question about Eddie Guerrero. Hanging up the phone, he cups Ricardo's face and stares into his eyes. "Lo siento, I said more than I should, perhaps-"

"It's fine, El Patron, I know you were only selling what we put into motion months ago." Ricardo pats his wrists and moves like he's about to get up, get started for the day, but Alberto leans forward and grips him, tugging him back onto the bed, his arms snug around his midsection. "El Patron-"

"Uno momento," he breathes, pressing his face into Ricardo's hair. "I do care," he murmurs. "And I'll never stop. I love you, Ricardo."

Ricardo sighs and sinks back into him, smiling. "I know, El Patron. It is exactly the same for me, no matter what happens or where our roads lead... I love you too." He gives Alberto a few more moments to hold him, easing his guilt from having to say so many ugly things, before squeezing his arms. "But we really do need to get moving or we'll either anger Sofia for ruining her breakfast, or risk missing our flight. Personally, I'm more worried about the first of those two things."

Alberto laughs against his neck and nods, slowly freeing him from his possessive hug. "Alright, mi valiente. When you put it that way, si, let's go." But Ricardo waits at the doorway and, when Alberto joins him, wraps his arms around him as they walk side by side to the kitchen to greet the housekeeper.


	22. Training

Alberto has lost against Sin Cara again. Ordinarily it'd just be a set back, he'd shake it off and move on, but this is different. On top of the losses to Cena, and the World title being unified with the WWE title, which lessens his chances of regaining it, it feels like a serious situation, perhaps the beginning of the end of his career.

He's tense and he's angry, sitting mulishly at the kitchen table, Sofia peering over at him worriedly as she prepares supper for the three of them. Ricardo is standing behind him, massaging his shoulders and trying to think of some way to actually help him, since what he's been trying to do hasn't been doing anything. Finally he leans down and wraps his arms around the Mexican aristocrat's chest, lightly kissing his cheek. "El Patron, what do you say we go train in the basement gym before supper? Work out some of this energy, hm?"

Alberto doesn't say anything for a long moment, finally turning to look into Ricardo's earnest eyes. "Fine," he says lowly. Brushing Ricardo's hands away coolly, he stands from the table and walks determinedly down the stairs, Sofia and the former ring announcer exchanging worried glances before he goes to join him. By the time Ricardo makes it to the ring, Alberto's already in his ring gear, wrapping his wrists tightly in preparation for a fight.

Ricardo hesitates, second guessing his offer now, but obligingly gets into his own gear, the full body suit that he wears whenever he competes as El Local. They get into the ring and Alberto impatiently shakes Ricardo's hand before falling into a ready stance, waiting for Ricardo to approach. When he does, Alberto snags his wrist and draws him in the rest of the way, punching him. Ricardo staggers back, holding his face and staring on in shock, but tries to shake it off and move back into position for a more traditional lock up, but Alberto responds to this by sweeping his feet out from under him and sending him hard to the mat.

Ricardo shudders and hisses as the breath is taken roughly from his lungs, his eyes watering as he looks up at the lights. "El Patron," he wheezes, trying to get his arms up for some defense as Alberto hovers over his downed body, punches and kicks raining down on him again and again. Alberto eventually seems to bore of this and walks off, allowing Ricardo to roll onto his knees, regaining some of his breath. "El Patron-" He doesn't see the enzuigiri coming, only feeling the impact as his head is rocked to the side before he crumples back against the mat.

Only just aware of what a terrible mistake this offer now was, he clings to a glimmer of consciousness before he feels fingers in his hair, tugging him up in the cruelest way possible. He wavers on his feet, struggling to keep an eye on Alberto, when he feels himself being dragged over to the ropes. His body is pliant, it doesn't feel like his own, as gravity fails him and he finds himself staring at the mat upside down. He realizes he's hanging from the second rope in Alberto's improvised tree of woe, rough, impatient fingers gripping his hands and forcing him to hang onto the turnbuckle before Del Rio climbs the ropes, memories of when Alberto had first practiced this move on him, how badly it had hurt, echoes back through his sluggish mind and he starts to cry. "No, no, El Patron, por favor- stop, s-stop," he pleads. He's hanging awkwardly, only able to see Alberto's enraged, ruddy face from this angle. "El Patron, please-"

Their eyes catch and Alberto falters, almost falling off of the turnbuckle himself before he sits heavily on the top rope, staring down at Ricardo in terror. "Ay dios mio," he breathes out, shaking his head in disbelief as clarity returns to his dark eyes, the anger slowly leaving him. "Ricardo?"

"Help me," he pleads, starting to tremble from the strain of supporting himself in such an awkward angle. "Por favor... El Patron..."

Alberto immediately curses darkly, getting back to his feet and carefully clearing Ricardo's prone body when he leaps down to the mat. Immediately he twists around and brace's Ricardo's back with his arms, offering him some support. "Relax, mi valiente, I have you," he breathes. Ricardo's hands seem frozen in place but he finally, tentatively, unhooks them from the turnbuckle, allowing Alberto to guide his body down slowly to the mat, knees still bent up into the second rope until Alberto drags him clear of that too. "I have you."

Once laying horizontally once more, Ricardo cries and buries his face in Alberto's side, shaking his head. "Lo siento, I thought it would help, distract you, but it only made it worse, didn't it?"

"None of this was your fault," Alberto tells him, voice trembling as he realizes just what he could've done to the man in his arms. "You were trying to help me and I lost myself in anger and humiliation again..." He strokes Ricardo's soft black hair, feeling his sobs shaking through both of them. "I am the one who is truly sorry, mi valiente. I know I have already asked this of you too much, but please... forgive me?"

Ricardo sniffs and nods, sitting up a little and kissing Alberto. "Of course, I know it's not... it's just... you're understandably angry over how things have been going, it was nothing personal. You probably didn't even realize it was me in the ring, you were so lost in the moment."

Alberto stares into his eyes, trying to remember what he was thinking only moments earlier. "I believe you're right, but it doesn't make it right, Ricardo." He brushes the fresh tears off of the ring announcer's face, leaning in to kiss him. "I promise you, Ricardo, if I ever feel this close to losing it, I'll never agree to training with you again. It breaks my heart to come this close to hurting you." He lightly brushes his thumb against one of the spots he'd punched him earlier and Ricardo winces away, Alberto's eyes filling with guilt and pain. "I'm so sorry," he breathes out, hugging Ricardo close and pressing his face against the top of Ricardo's head.

Ricardo nods and curls in tighter against Alberto, absorbing as much comfort as he can from being held like this, until Sofia calls down that supper's ready.

Neither wanting to worry her, Alberto gets to his feet and gently pulls Ricardo up as well, searching his face. "We're alright?"

"Si," Ricardo agrees, smiling as Alberto finds his hand and squeezes his fingers softly, leaning in to kiss him before they head upstairs.


	23. Rest

Ricardo paces. He grits his teeth, staring up at the screen listing flights coming and going, willing it to update with news on his own flight... but there's no news. He groans and slumps down in the nearest seat, kicking uselessly at his bag. Robotically grabs for his phone, dialing WWE to alert them he's going to miss Raw and why. This done, he texts Alberto to alert him so he won't worry as well. "Kick some extra ass for me tonight," he adds at the end of the text with a smiley face, hoping that Alberto will take it to mean that Ricardo has faith in him. Which he always had and always will, no matter what.

He's watching Raw in the airport lounge, waiting for an opportunity to talk to staff to exchange his ticket to a flight for the city that Smackdown is being held at later in the week, when Alberto's next attempt against Sin Cara begins. Ricardo is sure that tonight is his night, watching on the edge of his seat... until Alberto takes a powerbomb from the top rope wrong, landing on his head. "Ay, no!" he exclaims, ignoring the people milling around as he jumps out of his seat and stands as close to the TV as he can, staring on in horror until the match ends. There's no question, El Patron is hurt and he's stuck in this horrible airport. Gritting his teeth, he walks determinedly back to the desk and waits to be paid attention to.

"How may I help you, sir?" a man finally asks boredly and he all but slaps the ticket down on the counter, the man's attention finally piqued.

"My flight was canceled, so I need this ticket exchanged to the next available flight to the same city, as soon as possible," he says coolly, taking all of the things he's learned as the person who typically books all of Alberto's flights and hotel rooms and using it to his advantage to make this airport bend to his will. He may not have Del Rio kinds of money but he did have the strength to be Alberto's right hand man for years and sometimes, like now, he draws upon what remains of that willpower to get what he needs. And right now he needs to be by Alberto's side as soon as possible.

Unsurprisingly, the man listens and looks into the flights, quickly exchanging it for him with as little said as possible. "There you go sir," he intones, handing him over a new ticket and itinerary.

Ricardo reads it without moving away from the desk, uninterested in the people behind him who are waiting impatiently for their turn. "Looks right. Thank you," he says simply, turning and walking off. His flight, unfortunately, isn't until morning, so he goes to find a nearby hotel room to hole up for the night, counting the hours until he can go and see for himself that Alberto is going to be alright. He always has a terrible time with insomnia but tonight is even worse, the young man unable to take his hand off of his phone, texting anyone he can think of to tell him anything about Alberto. Brodus is the only one who responds, promising to keep an eye on his former employer.

_This_ eases a little of Ricardo's turmoil. Brodus is, generally, a good guy, and dependable enough. Also, Alberto trusts him more than anyone else in the business so he's sure he's in good hands. Still, he can't sleep, his eyes gritty and red when it's finally time to return to the airport. _This_ time, thankfully, things go fine and he's on his way to Alberto's side within a couple of hours. He sits at attention, tapping his fingers anxiously and denying anything the flight attendants offer him.

When the plane finally lands, he's one of the first ones off, walking as quickly through the airport as he dares. Grabs a rental car and drives to the hotel, his teeth gritted together as he goes. The woman behind the desk looks bored, barely blinking when he walks up. "Excuse me," he says tensely. "I'm Ricardo Rodriguez. Is Alberto Del Rio staying here?" He could've called and gotten Alberto's room number but the thoughts of disturbing him when he's probably resting has always been something Ricardo avoids, so this is his next best option.

She chews some gum lazily, still peering at him. "He told us you'd probably be in today," she says. "Left a keycard for you." She finds an envelope and hands it over to him, his name scrawled on it in Alberto's handwriting. "Room 325."

Ricardo nods, flushing a bit at how well his former employer knows him. "Thank you," he says distractedly before walking to the elevator. The trip to the third floor and the time it takes to walk down the hall to his room is torturous but it all washes away when Ricardo unlocks the door and walks inside to find Alberto sitting on the bottom of the bed, looking up at him with a faint smile. When he stands shakily and holds his arms out to Ricardo, the ring announcer drops everything and walks hurriedly to him, hugging him. "El Patron," he breathes out. "I was so scared."

"Me too," he mumbles. "I knew you'd be here, but when I first woke up, and you weren't here..." He presses his face into Ricardo's soft black hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Stupid airlines. I got here as quickly as I could." He pulls back and smiles sadly at Alberto, taking in how pale and exhausted he looks. "What did the trainer say?"

"Concussion," he sighs. "When they clear me for flight, I'm to go home and get checked out by my personal physician." Ricardo nods solemnly, carding his fingers through Alberto's hair soothingly. "You're ok with staying here for awhile, si?"

The ring announcer laughs weakly and pulls Alberto into him, kissing the top of his head. "No question, El Patron. Anywhere you need me to be."

"Gracias," he murmurs into the warm fabric of Ricardo's black sweater, listening to his heart beating. "I'm so tired."

Ricardo immediately moves, helps Alberto up towards the pillows, where he tucks him in and kisses his forehead. Wandering around, he collects his bag and puts it by the wall so they won't trip over it. Adjusts the drapes to keep the sun out and makes sure the Do Not Disturb sign is on the door before toeing his shoes off, followed by his jeans. After changing into much more comfortable black sweatpants he joins Alberto, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. "It's alright, I'm here now. Beunos noche," he murmurs, smiling when Alberto stirs and peeks at him.

"It's afternoon yet."

He laughs warmly and tsks at Alberto, kissing him. "Yes, well, it's nighttime for us because we're going to sleep for a nice long time. Close your eyes, El Patron."

"That does sound nice," he concedes, giving in and doing as Ricardo says with a soft sigh. "Beunos noche, mi valiente. I've missed you."

"I missed you too," Ricardo breathes, nuzzling closer to him. He watches and listens as Alberto slowly falls asleep, his breathing evening out. With a small smile, Ricardo relaxes and, slowly, follows his lead.


	24. Casting Call

Alberto and Ricardo usually make it a point to not be seen together at the arena. Alberto's big idea to cut professional ties with Ricardo hadn't led to the success for either of them that they'd wanted, but they still uphold the gimmick of hating each other, just in case something should change. Even so, everyone's around ringside, either sitting in chairs or standing by the apron, so it doesn't seem like that big of a deal that they'd be standing not that far away from each other.

Drew and Jinder are standing on the ring apron, talking quietly amongst themselves with their backs turned to the others. Quite a few of the wrestlers and divas standing around are beginning to look bored, unsure why they're here to begin with. With time, the volume of their inane chatter rises and seems to attract the members' of 3MB's attention as they turn to look at them all. "Oh, everyone's here, great," Drew drawls, finally entering the ring with Jinder and peering down at the group. "Unfortunately Heath is off for awhile, needin' some time to himself, which means we need an interim member of the band for the holiday tour comin' up. Make a single-file line, no shoving. We'll interview you all fairly for the position."

Ricardo glances around, watching as the wrestlers talk louder for a moment, the majority of them then turning to leave the ringside area. Alberto is among them but he waits, staring up at Drew and Jinder as their expectant faces fall more and more while the room empties. Within minutes, he's the only one standing there but Alberto seems to notice he's not following because he hesitates at the curtain to see what Ricardo's doing.

Jinder nor Drew seems to notice him because they turn away, whispering heatedly amongst themselves. He squares his shoulders, takes a breath and approaches the ring, slowly climbing inside. Holding his hands up in supplication so they don't try to attack him, since neither realize he's in the ring, he clears his throat. "Eh, uh, hola."

Immediately Drew and Jinder stop talking, turning to look at him suspiciously. "What do you want?" Drew asks, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow as Ricardo shifts from foot to foot.

"Uh, well," he says awkwardly. "It seems that you're short a member, and um, everyone else left so perhaps... I could take the position for a bit?"

Drew and Jinder exchange glances before turning to look at him, eyebrows raised. Neither say anything and Ricardo's shoulders start to slump.

"Never mind," he says quietly, turning from them. "I'm sure you had someone else in mind."

He's half way through the ropes when Drew coughs. "How do you like dressing up in costumes?"

Ricardo freezes and turns to look at them incredulously. "Really? You mean you want me to be an interim member of 3MB?"

The two of them exchange glances once more before turning to him. "Yes," Drew says decidedly, clapping a hand on Ricardo's shoulder. "Let's go select costumes." They leave the ring and Ricardo follows them uncertainly, wondering just what kind of ridiculous things they'd dress up as.

Alberto is still standing off to the side so he snags Ricardo by the arm, glancing back at the other two men. "Are you sure about this?" he asks the ring announcer.

"Si, it'll be alright, El Patron. I know they attacked me int he past, but I think things will be alright this time." He reaches up and pats Alberto's hand. "Trust me, El Patron."

He stares into Ricardo's eyes for a moment, before releasing a lengthy sigh. "Si, fine." Leaning in, he kisses him. "Have fun, then."

"I will," Ricardo promises him quietly. Stroking Alberto's hand, he turns and catches up with Drew and Jinder, feeling a little more comfortable in his decision.


	25. Cold

Another day of disasterous flights. Ricardo sighs and stares up at the ceiling, uncertain if he's landed or if he's just imagining things. Grunting, he lifts his cell phone and stares at the time flashing there. "It's seriously almost midnight?" he mumbles to himself, closing his eyes. "Ugh..." Exhausted and chilled as soon as he leaves the airport, the winter weather immediately biting through his clothes, he groans and looks for his rental. When he finally finds it, he almost cries in relief before sliding inside and struggling to start it up, his hands shaking so hard that he has trouble getting the key in the ignition. "Ay dios mio..."

Once the car's on and heat is slowly starting to fill the exterior, easing his shivers little by little, he digs his phone out of his pocket and tweets about his arrival, how cold and sore he feels, mostly to give the warmth a little more time to work its magic. Not that it matters, he realizes upon looking up from the screen. He'll have to leave the car again, walk through the frigid temperatures just to get to the hotel. Groaning, he rests his face against the wheel and breathes out. _If not for Alberto,_ he thinks tiredly, _I'd just park the car and sleep in it..._ But that's not a possibility, so he pulls out onto the main road and makes his way to the hotel, gritting his teeth against the cold weather causing his previously broken bones to throb anew.

Each red light adds to his crankiness but finally, finally the hotel appears in sight and he releases a relieved breath, counting the seconds until he arrives at the turn. Hitting the signal for said turn feels like a little bit of freedom and he's so happy to find a spot close to the building that he almost feels like crying. But the thoughts of having to turn the heat off, getting out of the car and getting his bags before walking to the building causes him to tense up anew. "Alright, Ricardo," he tells himself somberly, "we do this and we're staying inside for the rest of the night, no ifs ands or buts about it. Just... a few more minutes. We can do this."

Taking the keys from the ignition with a grimace, he opens the back door long enough to tug his luggage out. Stopping only long enough to lock the doors before slamming them shut, he continues on to the hotel, each step more painful than the last as his legs rebel against everything, his ankles and knee protesting each movement. He's tired and barely able to keep his eyes open by the time he makes it to the front desk of the hotel, staring at the woman standing there. "Um, hey. I think Alberto Del Rio left something for me?"

She stares at him for a few moments before rifling through some envelopes and papers. "Ricardo Rodriguez?"

"Yeah, that's me," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. As soon as he has the envelope in hand, he nods and turns away. "Thanks," he calls over his shoulder before trudging towards the elevator, the plush carpetting doing little to ease the pain still throbbing from ankle to thigh. He curses sleepily while squinting at the keycard to figure out what room Alberto's on. Figuring it out, he presses five on the panel and leans against the side of the elevator, biting his lip as he struggles to remain standing.

He doesn't really remember walking down the hall once the elevator opens, but he does recall standing by the door, trying to fit the key card in the slot and failing, his eyes barely open as he leans against the wall, growing frustrated and mumbling sleepily. Finally the door is pulled open and Alberto gapes at him, gripping his bag and tugging it out of his hands before catching him around the shoulders and drawing him into the room. "El Patron," he sighs, leaning into the older man as he pushes him onto the bed and drops Ricardo's bag next to his own. "Am I really here?"

Alberto's laugh is soft and a little sad as he leans over Ricardo and pulls his shoes off. "Si, mi valiente. You're really here. I saw your tweet," he murmurs, frowning when Ricardo shudders wearily. "This weather truly is brutal, hm? Do you want a hot shower?"

"Doubt I'd stay awake for it," he admits lowly. Alberto nods briskly and seems to decide on another course of action, walking towards the front of the bed and gripping him under the arms, helping him to scoot up against the pillows so he'll be more comfortable. "What're you doing, El Patron?" he wonders, watching him closely.

Del Rio merely grins and moves back towards the bottom of the bed after helping him out of his jeans. Ricardo squints at him, still sleepy but fighting to stay awake to see what Alberto's got in mind. "I saw your tweet about being sore because of the weather," he explains. "So I was thinking... perhaps..." His hands are warm and gentle, causing Ricardo to gasp when he grips his ankles, lightly massaging from his heel up to his calves. "Does anything else hurt?"

Ricardo breathes in deeply before peering down at him. "Maybe ... everything? A little?" His grin is a little mischevious, despite his exhaustion, and Alberto laughs warmly, squeezing his ankle.

"Alright, I suppose we'll see what we can do about that too," Alberto muses, knowing that Ricardo will probably be long asleep before he even finishes with his ankles. He's already struggling to keep his eyes open, each blink a little slower than the last, so Alberto pats his knee a couple of times, gaining his attention. "But just in case... buenos noches, mi valiente," he tells him softly, winking when Ricardo relaxes and sinks back into the pillows, understanding that that's Alberto's way of telling him it's ok to fall asleep.

"Buenos noches, El Patron," he sighs. He's out long before Alberto moves up to massage his knees, careful around the scars littering his skin from past injuries.

Smiling wanly, Del Rio moves and grabs the bedding, pulling them up to Ricardo's chin, tucking him in. "Rest well, mi valiente," he whispers to him before kissing his forehead and laying down next to him, wrapping an arm around him to help him warm up the rest of the way.


	26. Pets

Alberto's fast asleep when he hears a soft thudding noise. He grunts and stirs, rolling over enough to throw an arm over the bed. This works against him, however, as the cool air coming from the vent wakes him up even more, his brow furrowing when he hears familiar whispers from the floor. He's about to say something when he hears a vague meowing sound, closing his eyes.

_Misty_ , it could only be. Kitty knows better, but Misty is younger, more curious and playful. He had told Ricardo when he began adopting cats that they could roam the house, everywhere _but_ Alberto's bedroom. He didn't want cat fur all over his titles, much less his bedspread. He sighs, rolling away and trying to ignore it, expecting Ricardo to shoo the cat out of the room and come back to bed, but he's just snuggled into the pillows that still smell like his former ring announcer when... Misty makes another pitiful meowing noise and he grunts, opening his eyes and sitting up. "Ricardo."

There's a scramble and Ricardo stares at him, the cat in his hands. "Sorry, El Patron, I'm sorry. She slipped in while I was trying to get a glass of water. I was trying to get her to go back into the hall, but..." She wriggles around in Ricardo's grip and, before either of them could say or do anything, squirms free entirely and leaps up onto Alberto's lap. "Misty! No!" Ricardo chides the cat, scrambling to his feet. "Alberto doesn't want you in here, come on, silly..." He's just reached out for the cat when Alberto shakes his head, resting his large hand on the kitten's head. "El Patron?"

Alberto looks up and smiles at Ricardo's wide eyed, incredulous stare. "It's fine, mi valiente. She's still little, si? She will learn." He lifts the cat up, staring her in the eye as her paws rest on his upper arms, a perplexed look on her face. "It won't be a regular thing, but I suppose if she's missing you, she can stay tonight." Resting her back in his lap, he looks up at his ring announcer. "No one who loves you should have to go without you for too long, after all."

Ricardo flushes, joining them and petting Misty's head. "Gracias, El Patron. I'll keep trying to convince her that your bedroom's off limits. Lo siento..."

"Don't worry about it," Alberto sighs. "Bedding can be cleaned, after all. Besides, I'm rather fond of this one." He pats the cat's side, watching as she leaps out of his lap and kneads the bedding for a bit before curling up between the pillows.

"But not Kitty?" he teases Alberto as they slip under the sheets, both peeking over to make sure they're not disturbing Misty.

"Meh, he's grown on me, I suppose," Alberto concedes, finding Ricardo's hand under the sheets and squeezing it.

Ricardo yawns and listens to Misty purring next to him, smiling as he turns to meet Alberto's eyes. "I'll make you a cat person yet, you just wait and see."

"Hmph," Alberto sighs. "Well if anyone could, I suppose, it'd be you." He strokes Ricardo's knuckles and winks at him. "Buenos noches, mi valiente."

"Buenos noches," he replies softly, reaching out with his free hand to pet Misty once more. "Buenos noches, Misty."

Alberto watches as Ricardo snuggles into the pillows before murmuring, "Buenos noches, Misty." He rolls his eyes when Ricardo laughs quietly, mock-glaring at him when he peeks up at him. His lips twitch into a soft grin as Ricardo snuggles back into the pillows. _This isn't too bad, I suppose,_ he thinks, the cat's soft purrs and Ricardo's steady breaths helping him to relax into a badly needed deep sleep.


	27. Moving On

It's been months since that look had been on Ricardo's face, a concerned sort of focus. But here they are, driving along Tampa streets, giving Sofia space so she can clean in peace, Ricardo's eyes locked on his phone. Alberto keeps glancing over at him, frowning faintly. Finally he grows exasperated and narrows his eyes at Ricardo. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Ricardo jumps and turns to look at him, wide eyed and more than a little fearful. "N-no, El Patron, nothing's wrong. I just..." He clears his throat. "RVD tweeted me," he admits. He hadn't heard from the other man- as far as Alberto knows- since being ditched by him last fall.

As expected, the Mexican aristocrat tenses up. "I see." He wants to ask so badly, figure out what the highflyer wants _now_ , but he's also not sure whether it's his place to ask. He gnaws at his bottom lip, turning his attention back to the road as he drives towards the highway, wanting to drive faster than he can in the city limits. Only a few minutes have passed when Alberto can't take the silence anymore and pulls over on the side of the highway.

Ricardo looks up from his phone, confused. "El Patron, what-" He stops short when he sees the look on Alberto's face. "What's wrong, El Patron?" He puts the phone down and turns towards him, eyes shining with anxiety. "Did I do something?" He reaches out for Alberto just to freeze in midair when Alberto jerks away from him, the displeasure on his face deepening.

RVD had been something of a sensitive topic between them. Not that he blames Ricardo for doing what he felt he needed to to stay on TV, but still. As the weeks had gone by and RVD and Ricardo became better friends, Alberto _had_ fought off feelings of jealousy. Especially when Ricardo began teaching RVD Spanish. For that brief period of time, it hadn't mattered that it was always his hotel room that Ricardo returned to every night. Although it had caused Ricardo pain physical and emotional, also hindering his career even more, it had mostly been a relief to Alberto when RVD left for his own emotional well-being. All of these thoughts racing around in Alberto's mind, his voice is tense and dark with loathing when he asks. "What does he want?"

Ricardo's brows furrow before he peeks back at his dark phone. "Someone tweeted me asking where Rob was at... and he replied asking where _I_ was at..."

Alberto takes a breath, steeling himself for going through all of _that_ again. Having his best friend, his love, claim to be determined to take his title from him... an act, sure, but the issues with Rob himself far from fake. They had never really discussed it, the entire situation still a sore subject for both of them, for different reasons. He reaches over and grips Ricardo's hand, running his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully. "What did you say, then?"

"I suggested we do something for Wrestlemania." Ricardo turns his hand so that they're resting palm to palm, staring into Alberto's eyes. "He hasn't said anything but either way, I doubt you have anything to worry about, El Patron. It won't be like last time."

"You can't promise that," Alberto murmurs, brushing his thumb over Ricardo's knuckles. "It could easily- he might decide to use you against me again-"

Ricardo shakes his head. "I suspect Rob will have other focuses this time around." Reaching up with his free hand, he tugs Alberto closer to him and hugs him. "Even if he did try to get revenge against you, it won't be like before. Things won't be so... fresh, won't be so raw between us. Si?"

Alberto takes a breath, nodding. "Right. Si. Of course." He smiles wanly at Ricardo. "Lo siento, mi valiente, it's just... not very good memories."

"I understand," he whispers. "Do you want to continue driving?" Alberto nods, slowly straightening himself in his seat as Ricardo does the same, adjusting his seatbelt. He smiles upon watching as Ricardo purposely drops his phone in the glove compartment, shutting it forcefully.

"Gracias," Alberto breathes out, the silence now content, simple, instead of the tense, awkward thing it had been earlier. Ricardo smiles at him and he winks back at the former ring announcer before merging back into the highway traffic, relieved to leave these old doubts and jealousies behind.


	28. Commentary

It's the night of the Royal Rumble. Ricardo is standing by the gorilla position, tapping his microphone and waiting for any possible interview duties when a random tech comes up to him and says something. Alberto, watching from a few feet away, raises his eyebrow curiously but is too far away to hear what's going on. The tech motions to Ricardo and guides him down the hall, their heads pressed together as they discuss... whatever it is, and Alberto frowns.

He's still standing there when Ricardo nods, thanking the tech and turning to walk back towards gorilla. Alberto pulls away from the wall and approaches the table as well, making a show out of staring at the match board hung next to it. "What was that?" he mumbles loud enough for Ricardo to hear, but none of the other nosy people scattered around.

"They want me to commentate PPVs on the Spanish table," Ricardo whispers back, pretending to check his microphone for defects. Alberto glances over at him and he shrugs, eyes fixed on his own hands. "It's better than nothing, I suppose."

That's not Alberto's main concern, however, all too aware of how often the Spanish tables are targetted. "Mi valiente," he breathes, but then another tech approaches and Ricardo straightens up to talk to him.

"We'll talk later, El Patron," he whispers, discreetly patting Alberto on the arm before leaving him to stew in silence.

"Ay," he huffs, turning to watch through the current as Ricardo takes his place at the Spanish table. He doesn't like this, doesn't like it much at all. At least during interviews, Ricardo is relatively safe... but out there, so close to the action... He makes a face before walking down the hall, trying to focus on his own role in the Rumble.

He's entry number 27, glancing through the sea of bodies in the ring to catch a glimpse of Ricardo, who seems relatively unharmed at the table. He breathes a little easier as he slides into the action, tries to fight his way to another title opportunity. He'd wanted the WWE World Heavyweight Title back so badly, it was like an ache, but he knows things are going wrong as soon as Batista enters the ring. Despite his best efforts, he's thrown out and lands not far away from where Ricardo's sitting.

He grunts and struggles back up to his feet, catching his ring announcer's eye before turning and making his way backstage, angry at having lost. His displeasure grows when Batista wins the damn Rumble, but he says nothing, sitting in the locker room until the PPV ends and Ricardo finally rejoins him, cupping his hands. "El Patron?"

Sitting up, he searches Ricardo's face. "Let's get out of here, mi valiente." The younger man nods, waiting as Alberto changes into street clothes, before snagging his bag and wrapping an arm around Alberto, following him out to the car.

Later on, Alberto is sitting on the edge of the bed, sorting through their itinerary the next week, when Ricardo comes out of the bathroom, hair slicked back and wet. Smiling, he sits next to Alberto and looks down at the papers while he runs a towel through his hair. Alberto glances over and puts the papers down, taking the towel from him and firmly drying his hair. Ricardo sighs and leans into his touch, eyes fluttering. "El Patron," he breathes out, enjoying how he's massaging his scalp with the soft fabric.

Alberto allows him a moment before pulling away, wrapping the towel around Ricardo's shoulders. "Did you enjoy commentating tonight, mi valiente?"

"Si. It was... different," he says after a moment. "I'd prefer to be in the ring, but I'll make the most of this." He leans against Alberto and releases a breath. "I'm sorry you didn't win the Rumble, El Patron. I know you were hoping to main event Wrestlemania, get your title back..."

"Hm," Alberto mutters, this far from his mind right now however. He brushes his fingers through Ricardo's soft hair. "Yes, well, I was more concerned for you," he admits. "That Spanish table... it's targetted so often..."

"I'll keep it safe," Ricardo says with a vague laugh but, when Alberto doesn't laugh as well, he sits up and stares his former employer in the eye. "You're really worried about this, huh?" He smiles and cups Alberto's face. "I'll be fine. I know to get out of the way if someone's coming for the table. Don't worry. No one'll touch me."

"Hmm," Alberto repeats, leaning forward and kissing Ricardo's nose. "They'd better not." He stares into Ricardo's eyes. "I'd have to find some of my old aggression and kick their traseros." The ring announcer laughs, leaning forward and resting his head against Alberto's shoulder as he hugs him. "I am happy as long as you're happy, though, mi valiente."

Ricardo nods as Alberto strokes his back, smiling. "Gracias, El Patron."


	29. Imagine

After another week's worth of events and all of the traveling and less than stellar meals, Ricardo and Alberto are relieved to be back home in Florida. Alberto lounges in the hammock, Ricardo settled back in his arms and watching the clouds float by overhead. The wind lightly sways them and Alberto nuzzles into Ricardo's hair. "This is nice, hm, mi valiente?"

"Si it is," he whispers. Although he seems relaxed enough, he's not surprised when Alberto brushes his hair aside and tilts his head, staring into his eyes. He grips the Mexican aristocrat's hand and squeezes it, smiling to show he's ok. Alberto still looks concerned, though, so Ricardo releases a breath, voicing what he's been thinking about. "Do you ever think what it'd be like to still work together?"

Alberto pauses, allowing the hammock to rock back and forth a few more moments before resting his head on Ricardo's shoulder. "Sometimes," he says softly. "What's brought this on, mi valiente?"

Ricardo shrugs aimlessly. "Just thinking, I suppose. Of the good times."

Alberto grimaces and rubs a hand along Ricardo's chest, also remembering their years of working together. "There weren't enough of them, mi valiente."

"I suppose," Ricardo concedes. "You were hard to please, sometimes, but in this business, it's understandable. But after Sheamus' attack... and everything else... you softened." He rests a hand on Alberto's jaw, lightly stroking his skin. "I forgave you for all of that a long time ago anyway. I know you've said in interviews that you like doing things on your own, but it's just a nice thought." He nuzzles into Alberto's throat and sighs as he tightens his arms around him.

"It is," he admits. "But do you really want to backtrack, mi valiente? I know the interviews and commentary aren't exactly what we were foreseeing for you after we split up, but it could segue into something else, si?"

"I know," Ricardo murmurs, closing his eyes and absorbing the sunshine quietly. "I'll try to be patient for a little longer. You're right, after all."

Alberto smiles and kisses the side of his face. "You were the best ring announcer and although I do miss working with you, I want you to have a true opportunity to shine on your own. And I know you can and will. Othewise I would've never let you go."

Ricardo smiles against Alberto's warm flesh, humming slightly. "Gracias, El Patron."


	30. Interview

Alberto isn't booked for Smackdown this week. He stews over this fact, far from pleased over it, when he decides just to suck it up, hang around for Ricardo's sake, and then return to the hotel and rest until they can fly home. He also hadn't done much on Raw, but at least he had found a reason to appear on TV, even if it was just to briefly confront Batista. Tonight, Batista isn't around and his heart isn't in whatever's going on anyway.

Ricardo has interviews to conduct so Alberto tries to stay away, give him time and space to finish them so they can hopefully leave earlier, but he still finds himself loitering around the main locker room, aware that Ricardo's interviewing the Los Matadores in there. He's waiting, hands in his pockets, when there's a commotion inside. His eyebrows lift into his hairline as the two men dash out of the room, trying to control their little bull, and he frowns at their departing backs, before pushing the door open to enter.

Ricardo is slumped over on a bench, gripping his midsection, but as soon as he hears Alberto enter, he tries to sit up straight and act like nothing's wrong. "Eh, oh," he mumbles, his shoulders falling when he realizes _who_ it is. "El Patron." As Alberto approaches him, he tries to shrug it off, get to his feet. "That bull, he is... something else, isn't he?" He pales, staggers forward and Alberto grips him under the arms instinctively, guiding him back down slowly before he falls.

"Whoa, whoa, mi valiente," he gasps, brushing hair out of Ricardo's eyes once he's safely back on the ground. "What did he do? Hm? What's wrong?"

"Gored me," he grunts, breathing out sharply. "I thought I was ok but... ay dios mio, standing was a mistake... this hurts." He buries his face in Alberto's chest as the older man steadies him with a hand on his chest.

"I'm getting the trainer," he decides, getting to his feet and helping Ricardo lean back against the wall. "Don't move." He's just turned towards the door when Ricardo snags his wrist and holds on, shaking his head desperately. "Mi valiente, you're in pain, who knows-"

"No, por favor," he pleads. "It's bad enough people will see the footage online, I just... I don't want to hear about it from the others. Just... help me out to the car, I'll be ok. I promise."

Alberto frowns, clearly not entirely sold, but he finally grips Ricardo under the arms and helps him up again, listening to his rough breathing as they walk slowly down the hall towards the exit. How they make it to the car, Alberto's not sure, but finally he gets Ricardo settled in the passenger seat and rests a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to look at your stomach for a second, alright?"

Ricardo nods tiredly and drops his head back as Alberto tugs at his jacket, soon freeing him from the shirt underneath it. Cool air brushing against his flesh is the only sign that Alberto's checking his midsection out as silence fills the car. He tilts his head and murmurs, "El Patron? What is it?" Alberto's fingers over the most sore parts of his stomach makes Ricardo jump and hiss. "Que...?"

"I will kill that little bull if I see him again," Alberto mumbles, adjusting Ricardo's clothes and standing up. "It's ok, don't worry. We'll get you to the hotel and I'll patch you up." He leans in and kisses Ricardo's forehead before running over to the driver's side.

The ride to the hotel is quiet, tense. Ricardo feels every bump in the road, every stop and go motion of the vehicle, keeping his eyes closed in an attempt to not distress Alberto further. Once they arrive, it's another excruciatingly long walk to their hotel room, Alberto bracing him in the elevator as it rides up the floors. Thankfully, they're in the first room so the walk out of the elevator isn't as bad, though he's still breathless and clammy once they do arrive.

Alberto rests him on the bed, peeling Ricardo's jacket off entirely before pulling his shirt off as well. Laying him down on the bed, he forces a smile and pats Ricardo's face. "I'm going to get the first aid kit, you wait right here." They'd taken to carrying it after the feud with Big Show, when Ricardo's chest was regularly raw from his chops, but he hadn't seen it in quite awhile.

Worrying his lip, he props himself up on his elbows and stares. There are two, small puncture marks on his stomach- from El Torito's horns- and he grunts, realizing just why it hurt to walk. They're not deep, but still. Definitely enough to cause him pain for awhile. "Ay," he hisses, dropping back against the pillows as Alberto rejoins him.

Resting the first aid kit on the bed, he reaches out and brushes his fingers through Ricardo's hair, smiling sympathetically down at him. "It doesn't look so good, hm, mi valiente? But it's ok, I'll make it better." Ricardo nods dozily, tipping his head to watch as Alberto runs a warm washcloth over the wounds, cleaning them off to get a better look. "It's a good thing he's so little and pathetic," Alberto muses. "These are minor, which is the only reason I'm not taking you to the hospital."

Ricardo sighs as Alberto smears cool first aid cream over them, murmuring to him when he presses gauze over the wounds and taping it into place. The ring announcer is breathing heavily again but, as Alberto clears the first aid kit and its supplies off of the bed, throwing away what's needed, he relaxes and calms down. By the time the Mexican aristocrat lays back down next to him, he's calm once more, eyes fluttering when Alberto carefully wraps an arm around him and hugs him close, kissing his shoulder. "Gracias," he breathes, smiling at Alberto.

"De nada, Ricardo. Any time," he whispers back. "I love you."

"I love you too," he sighs. They lay quietly for awhile before Ricardo closes his eyes and gives into sleep, Alberto relieved to see that it seems restful enough. He nuzzles into him, listening to his breathing, before dozing off as well.


	31. Redemption

After Raw, Alberto sighs, relieved to return to the hotel, lay down and rest for awhile. Ricardo is in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, leaving his former employer to scroll through texts and tweet alerts. He barely pays attention to any of them until he sees Ricardo's twitter handle, stopping short. He's clearly holding true to their plan, despite how faulty it'd already proven to be, but still the things they have to say and do against each other... it gets tiresome. Alberto sighs and presses buttons until his phone's screen goes dark, just as Ricardo leaves the bathroom and settles down next to him.

"Buenos noches, El Patron," he whispers, kissing Alberto before settling against his chest and closing his eyes.

"Buenos noches, mi valiente," he murmurs in kind, listening to Ricardo's breath slowly evening out as he falls asleep. Alberto doesn't find it as easily, however, staring up at the ceiling as the night ticks by slowly. Finally he drifts into an uneasy sleep, Ricardo's insults over the past few months fresh on his mind, the things he's had to say and do as well.

He wakes up to the sun shining in through the hotel window and... no Ricardo. Frowning, he looks around, expecting the younger man to just be in the bathroom, or maybe at the edge of the bed, watching TV. But the room is quiet, there being no sign of life anywhere else. Alberto frowns and sits up, smoothing his hair down before padding around the room just to make sure, but no. The bathroom is quiet, and there's no sign of him down the hall at the ice machine. "Ricardo?"

Ducking back into the room, he slips into his shoes, realizing that Ricardo's things are gone- his bag, _his_ shoes, the bottle of water he'd been drinking the night before. If Alberto didn't know better, it'd almost be like the man was never here. "Ay," he grunts, palming his keycard and wallet before leaving the room. A few wrestlers are scattered around in the front lobby of the hotel, preparing to leave, and he looks around, trying to find Ricardo. "Where is he?" he murmurs, turning in a circle until he finally spots him. Standing across the room with... his breath stutters in his lungs.

RVD laughs and nods at whatever Ricardo's saying, the two of them completely focused on each other. Alberto snarls at his old rival, collecting himself and storming over to them. "What is this, Ricardo?" he demands.

Ricardo rolls his eyes and steps past RVD, showing no signs of the timid creature he sometimes falls back into being when confronted. "What does it look like, Alberto?" Not being called _El Patron_ stings more than Alberto would ever admit as they stare at each other. "Now if you don't mind." But it's clear it doesn't matter as Ricardo turns to resume his conversation with Rob.

"Hey!" Alberto grips his wrist, trying to get him to talk to him, figure out what was going on but the look Ricardo shoots him as he pulls away, looking like he's gearing up for a fight, those old defenses shoring up between them once more, makes him stop short. "Ricardo..."

"Leave me alone," he tells him coolly. "You deserve to be alone. Rob, he knows how to be a true friend, he knows how to relax and have a good time, see beyond his title reigns and career aspirations. He understands that life is meant to be enjoyed instead of being just another power grab. You've never got any of that, and you wonder why no one wants to be around you."

Alberto can do nothing but gape as the two men stand side by side, a cocky smirk on Rob's face as Ricardo chooses _him_ over Alberto. "No, no, mi valiente, please-"

"I was never your bravery," Ricardo snaps back at him. "You have no bravery. You're a coward, Alberto. You always have been. You never deserved me-"

"No!" Alberto chokes out, confused as he comes face to face with darkness, frowning. He's sweaty and shaking, tensing when he's touched, a warm hand resting on his shoulder. "Let go," he snarls, preparing to attack when-

"El Patron," Ricardo says sleepily, sitting up and resting his head on Alberto's shoulder while hugging him from behind. "What's wrong? Are you ok?"

He releases a breath and rests a hand on top of Ricardo's, his head lowering to rest against their intertwined fingers. "Just a nightmare," he mumbles.

"Seemed like a pretty bad one," Ricardo muses, nuzzling into his neck and pressing a soft kiss to the heated flesh there. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Alberto sighs, allowing himself to be guided back against the mattress as Ricardo shuffles around and settles against him. He softly strokes the younger man's hair, closing his eyes. "Do you ever... feel like we're taking this plan a little... too far?"

Ricardo leans up and stares into his eyes. "Is that what your nightmare was about? Did my tweets earlier...?"

"It's not your fault," Alberto says, stroking his sides. "I put all of this into motion, after all. I'm just pondering if perhaps it's time to drop the pretense. I hate hurting you, and I know you were never in favor of making it so personal..."

Ricardo sighs and presses a kiss to Alberto's arm before settling back against him. "I'm following your lead, El Patron. If you want to stop, that's fine with me. If you think it's still beneficial, then I'll continue on. It's up to you."

Alberto sighs and kisses the top of Ricardo's head, closing his eyes. "You're too good to me, mi valiente." Laying here, with Ricardo in his arms, listening to him breathe, it almost helps him to forget the nightmare, the look in _that_ Ricardo's eyes. "You know that I was WWE Jerk of the Month again?"

Ricardo's lips twitch against his chest as he nods. "Si, I heard something about that." He teases Alberto with soft, tickling touches. "I believe I was mentioned in that article as well?"

"I believe so," Alberto smirks almost bitterly. "About how I target those weaker than me..." His hand spans the top of Ricardo's head as he kisses him. "The article is wrong however, because you were always my strength..."

Ricardo smiles and cups Alberto's face, searching his eyes. "It's a mutual thing, El Patron. I wouldn't be half as strong without you."

Alberto hums and pulls him closer, hugging him close. "Let's get some sleep, mi valiente. I don't think I'll be having any more nightmares."

Ricardo nods, murmuring, "Good." They lay quietly wrapped up in each other, enjoying the peace of the moment, before slowly succumbing to badly needed sleep.


	32. Ride

It's in the early evening, Alberto busy in his office handling some scheduling business, when his phone beeps. He only has a select few accounts set to send their tweets directly to his phone, so he doesn't miss anything, one of which is Ricardo's. Rubbing his tired eyes, he picks the phone up and accesses the text messages, smiling when he sees that it is indeed from his ring announcer, talking about how nostalgic he is towards riding horses like he did as a child, and how he had woke up from a dream about doing that very thing this morning.

Alberto pauses over the words, frowning at the thought of Ricardo yearning for something and not letting him know, because he thought he'd made it clear he'd do pretty much anything to make the other man smile, especially after how things had gone the past year. "Hmm, well, a tweet will have to suffice, I suppose," he mumbles, putting the phone down and pushing his other busy work away to begin planning something else.

-x

Ricardo wakes up the next morning off of more dreams about horses and the curious feeling of being weightless as he rides them through meadows, releasing a soft yawn before blinking his eyes open to find Alberto laying on his side, watching him with a small smile. "Hola, El Patron," he greets him sleepily, pressing his face into the older man's chest.

"Buenos dias," Alberto murmurs, stroking his hair. "Are you ready to get up?"

"Hmm, I suppose," Ricardo hums. "Do we have obligations today?"

"Of a sort," Alberto laughs, kissing the top of his head. "Come, mi valiente. Let's see what the day brings, hm?" Ricardo nods sleepily and allows his former employer to lead him into the kitchen, where Sofia is waiting with coffee and a soft smile.

"Do you know what he has planned?" the younger man asks her with a small laugh, sitting down at the table.

"Mmm," she muses, pouring him some coffee before moving to serve them breakfasts of eggs and sausages. "Perhaps."

He pouts, already aware she wasn't going to tell him anything, before picking up his fork and beginning to eat. "Of course," he sighs, always hating to wait for one of Alberto's surprises.

This one ends up stranger than usual because, once he's done eating and dressed for the day, Alberto blindfolds him and makes sure he can't see anything by sneaking up on him and kissing him, satisfied when he jumps in response. "Come then," he says quietly, taking Ricardo's hand and leading him to the car. The nearest horse farm that Alberto thought sounded the best is a decent drive away and he worries over how Ricardo will handle being blindfolded that long, but he's a champ through it all, not complaining once. If not for the uncertain twist to his lips sometimes, Alberto wouldn't know if he was feeling off about things at all. "Almost there, mi valiente," he says, turning down the music that he'd left up loud to comfort Ricardo. "You doing alright?"

"Si," Ricardo nods. "But... I _can_ look as we drive back home, right?"

Alberto feels even worse at the realization that one of Ricardo's favorite things to do is see the sights they drive by on one of these adventures, and he had taken that from him. "Si, of course," he agrees, already deciding to take the long way home so Ricardo can see even more of Florida country side to make up for what he had missed this afternoon.

"Gracias," he says with a soft smile. They drive in silence for a little longer before Alberto sees the signs pointing towards Aluchua Ranch. It's a small little ranch, with trails leading away from it, and Alberto can already see a couple of horses peacefully feeding off in the distance. He smiles, turning to look at Ricardo. "We're here," he says quietly, cutting the engine and getting out of the car. He races around and helps Ricardo out of the passenger's seat before standing him in perfect sight of the horses grazing. "Ready?"

"Mm hmm," Ricardo whispers, waiting patiently as Alberto unties the blindfold and allows him to look around. He gasps, his eyes widening as Alberto beams at him. "El Patron!" He stares at the beautiful animals for a moment before hugging his former employer hard. "It... they... this is amazing."

"I saw your tweet," Alberto explains. "And I began to look around and found this place. They allow horseback riding, and the pictures looked so beautiful... I thought perhaps you would enjoy spending the day here."

"Yes!" Ricardo gasps, gripping his collar and pulling him closer, kissing him. "Gracias, this is... I can't even describe it."

"I like to make you speechless," Alberto chuckles, kissing the side of his face before they turn to find the ranch hands to set things up. It isn't long before Ricardo's on top of a horse, looking natural and graceful up there. Alberto watches him while struggling to get atop his own steed, biting his lip as the animal just doesn't seem to like him. "Perhaps we should..."

Before he can finish, Ricardo dismounts from his own horse and comes over. "Are you alright, El Patron?" he asks, stroking the horse's flank. It immediately turns and noses at Ricardo, causing him to giggle, and Alberto grits his teeth at the finicky creature.

"I may have to get a different horse, this one doesn't like me."

Ricardo glances over at him and shakes his head. "What's wrong with him? He seems fine..." He strokes the horse's nose and smiles. "You're an alright guy, aren't you? Yeah..." He turns to look at Alberto, raising his eyebrows. "Try now, El Patron. He was probably just a little nervous."

Alberto narrows his eyes at Ricardo but this time, with a little bit of assistant from the ranch hand, manages it, ending up safely on the horse. He huffs as Ricardo easily hops back up onto his own horse and lightly flicks the reigns, guiding them side by side. He reaches over and pets Alberto's horse once more. "Ricardo..."

"It's fine, El Patron," he says softly. "You'll take good care of him, won't you?" The horse knickers and Alberto huffs, though his eyes are soft with affection for the ring announcer. "You ready to ride?"

"I suppose," Alberto says, gripping the reigns tightly. Ricardo gently reaches over and holds his hands until he relaxes, taking a deep breath. "You'll stay close, si?"

"Of course," Ricardo tells him with a small smile. "We'll go slow, El Patron," And they do, going at a slow walk through the grass up to the trails where they amble for awhile. Alberto breathes easier when his horse doesn't seem inclined to rear back and buck him off, the walk suiting all four of them just fine. "Doing alright, El Patron?"

"Si, gracias. I've never ridden a horse before," he confesses lowly. "With all of my cars, I never saw the need. I am glad I decided to try it." Ricardo smiles at him and loosens his grip on the reigns, reaching over. Alberto meets him half way and squeezes his hand as they look around at the beautiful foliage and countryside.

"This is so amazing," Ricardo whispers.

"Any time you want to come back, just let me know," Alberto tells him. "I'll make it happen."

Ricardo grins. "I love you, El Patron."

"I love you too, mi valiente," he says softly, lifting his hand and lightly kissing it.

They ride for another fifteen minutes before Ricardo decides Alberto's had enough for his first time, helping him to guide his horse back around so they can return to the ranch. "This has been an amazing day," he sighs, stroking his steed's mane.

Alberto quietly agrees, unable to take his eyes off of the peaceful expression on Ricardo's face.


	33. Happiness

It's difficult. Since splitting, nothing's quite gone right for Alberto _or_ Ricardo. Alberto hasn't had a decent opportunity at a title in months, and Ricardo is still stuck doing interviews and commentary before PPVs. When they're at home, with Sofia's soothing presence and everything going on there, they find ways to keep busy but, while on the road, unable to be in each other's presence because everyone is supposed to think they hate each other, it's tedious. Painful.

Ricardo is laying on his stomach, staring at his phone and listening to Alberto wander around the hotel room, neither looking forward to going to Raw that night. Alberto's fingers rest low on Ricardo's back after a few moments, massaging up his spine before he whispers, "Mi valiente?"

Ricardo stirs. He looks over his shoulder, smile small. "Si, El Patron?" Rolling onto his back so he's facing Alberto, they stare at each other a few moments before Alberto leans in and kisses him. Ricardo sighs and cups the back of his head, deepening the kiss. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Just you," Alberto says, smile confident and sweet all at the same time. "Come with me." He grips Ricardo hand and pulls him up, leads him out of the room.

They head to Alberto's car and Ricardo falters, staring at it, then over at Alberto. It's getting harder and harder for both of them to get up, want to go to the arena each day, but this... to actually get in a car and just go a couple of hours before the night's event, well... "I don't know," he says faintly. "Alberto..."

"We're not ditching," Alberto sighs. "I just want a little time with you, where we're not trapped in some stuffy hotel room. Si?"

Ricardo thinks for a minute about how the size of the penthouse Alberto usually books for these events are larger than many of the apartments he's lived in, and even the places he'd resided in with his mom and sister as a kid. But he understands, nodding quietly. "Si." They get into the car and Alberto drives quiet through the streets to the outskirts of town. It's a quiet, cool April day and Ricardo snuggles into his jacket once they're out, leaning against the hood of the car and taking it all in while soft mariachi music plays behind them.

Alberto rests next to him, the two of them absorbing the soft blue sky overhead, each other's warmth. "This is nice," he says. "Feels like we're back home."

Ricardo nods, resting his head against Alberto's shoulder. "Si. Maybe we should do this more often."

Alberto nods, running his hand through Ricardo's soft hair, down his cheek. "Si, I think so. Just the two of us, away from all of the perros." Ricardo chuckles at this and exhales, kissing Alberto's fingers as they ease closer to his lips.

"I'd like that," he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning closer to Alberto. "A lot."

"Then we'll do that," Alberto hums, turning and kissing Ricardo soothingly. "How we'll get through this."

"Ok," Ricardo breathes into him. "Sounds perfect." It does, and it is.

For awhile.


	34. Celebrate

Ricardo's still not used to getting booked consecutively for WWE _or_ NXT. When he receives the actual calendar of dates with matches for him and Kalisto to see how they gel as a tag team in NXT, he's not sure he's breathing properly, or reading it right. Getting up, he takes his phone downstairs and finds Alberto training in the basement ring, punching the bag so ferociously that Ricardo stands there for a few moments, just watching with a small, proud smile until Alberto finally notices him, patting the bag before walking away from it. "I didn't see you there, mi valiente," he says quietly, patting his face with a towel and leaning in to kiss Ricardo once he's somewhat presentable.

"Tell me if I'm reading things, El Patron," Ricardo requests, holding his phone out. He stands there anxiously as Alberto reads through the calendar, frowning. Once Alberto looks up, he swallows. "Well?"

"Well, you're booked," Alberto says, his expression softening into a proud grin. "You're going to tear through the rookies in that tag team division, mi valiente."

Ricardo exhales and grins as well, relieved that he wasn't hallucinating or misunderstanding. "Gracias, I hope so." He leans into Alberto as he hugs him, not even minding how sweaty Alberto is. "We should celebrate."

"Yes, and we should invite Sofia," Alberto agrees, patting his jaw as he pulls away. "But first I must shower. I look awful."

"You could never look awful," Ricardo refutes, smiling as Alberto leans in and kisses him.

"You always know just the right things to say," Alberto tells him, winking before walking upstairs to mention their plans to Sofia and then shower.

Ricardo watches him go before sprawling out in the middle of Alberto's ring, staring up at the ceiling. "Soon," he murmurs. _Soon, I will be competing once more..._ Sighing happily, he gets up and goes upstairs to change and make sure his hair is manageable.

An hour later, he, Alberto and Sofia are settling at a table in Ricardo's favorite sushi place located in downtown Miami, and the housekeeper smiles at them, reaching over to squeeze Ricardo's hand. "Muchas gracias for inviting me... and I'm so proud of you, Ricardo. I can't wait to watch your matches."

He smiles affectionately at her. "The three of us should do things like this more often, Sofia. But gracias, I will make sure you get tickets to all of them."

Sofia beams at him, about to respond when the waitress comes up to take their drink orders. Once the drinks arrive and they order sushi and some beef and fried rice to share between the three of them, Alberto lifts his glass of wine and clicks it with Ricardo's sake and Sofia's pineapple margarita. "To Ricardo," he says softly. "May you find all of the success you've always deserved."

"Si," Sofia agrees, smiling.

"Gracias," Ricardo says, feeling choked up as he looks between the two best people in his life. "I wouldn't have made it this far without you." Sofia makes a soft tsking noise and puts her drink down, hugging him from the left while Alberto stands up and hugs him from the other side, Ricardo calming down slowly as he's sandwiched between their warm support. He smiles and wraps an arm around them both, eyes locked on his plate sheepishly until Alberto tilts his face up and softly kisses him. "Gracias."

"It's our pleasure," Sofia tells him, patting his hand. Once they're sure he's less emotional, they pull away and look up as the waitress joins them a few moments later, placing plates full of sushi, beef and rice in front of them. Ricardo exhales as he looks at it all, the three of them echoing thank you to the woman as she urges them to enjoy and bustles off to handle a different table. "I could get used to this," Sofia says after taking another sip of her drink, Alberto and Ricardo staring at her in silent surprise before she winks at them and they realize she's teasing, the three of them starting to laugh.


	35. Fiesta

Despite being booked on NXT as a tag team wrestler, Ricardo is still contracted to do interviews and commentary on regular WWE programming, so he's pacing around backstage, waiting and watching for an opportunity to film something for the website when Alberto storms backstage just a few feet behind him, yelling out in angry Spanish. Ricardo freezes and turns to look at him, the two of them unable to talk properly because of all of the people wandering around the hallway. Alberto glares at him before nodding towards a room to the side, Ricardo obediently walking that way.

A few moments after the door slips shut behind Ricardo, Alberto joins him and paces around, tearing at his hair. Ricardo quickly walks up to him and grips his hands, trying to stop him from hurting himself. "El Patron, what's wrong?" he asks, scared to talk any louder, despite his panic.

"I am so sick of losing, mi valiente," he grumbles. "And now, as if that failure is not bad enough, those nasty, dirty Los Matadores have taken my fiesta supplies."

Ricardo frowns, gaze flickering around as he tries to think. "You still kept that stuff, El Patron?" The last fiesta Ricardo remembers had been the one Alberto held just before Ricardo's suspension, nothing that he wants to remember all that well.

"Si, of course I did. I could win back the heavyweight title at any time and require a proper celebration, mi valiente!" Alberto snaps before he realizes how glum Ricardo looks, squeezing his shoulder as he too remembers. "Lo siento, Ricardo. I suppose I've forgotten the last time we had a fiesta together. It just annoys me because I paid the WWE perros to transport these things and they allow anyone to use them. Hmph." He strokes the former ring announcer's arm comfortingly before sighing. "I suppose it is just something I will have to figure out, how to overcome all of these losses. Get my head back on straight. I will leave you to your interviews." He sneaks in and kisses Ricardo, relieved when Ricardo responds before he pulls away. His wink is half-hearted and grim as he pulls away and leaves the room.

Ricardo watches him go, licking his lips thoughtfully as ideas run through his mind at a breakneck speed. Coming to a decision, he tightens his grip on the microphone he always keeps with him just in case he runs into someone and slips out of the room. He's had bad results in the past interviewing these idiots but it's his best option right now, so he finds them and requests an interview. As they ramble on about Cinco de Mayo, he sneaks glances here and there, trying to find any sign of Alberto's things. Of course this interview ends as they all do with El Torito goring him and sending him stumbling back into the bench, struggling to catch his breath as Fernando and Diego laugh, leaving the locker room- and him- behind.

As soon as some of the pain eases, he gets to his feet and rubs his midsection, gritting his teeth against the soreness brought on mostly by El Torito's horns. "Estúpido," he exhales, walking carefully over to the cubbies and searching them. Nothing catches his eye, just spare clothes and masks and random bull supplies. He grimaces, rubbing at his face before turning and almost tripping on a bag that was hidden under one of the benches. Hesitating, he hooks it with his foot and pulls it out, realizing he's found what he needs as soon as he opens it. "Ooh..."

Red and green decorations greet him and he grits his teeth against the reoccuring bad memories once more as he pushes them back inside and zips the bag up again, hoisting it up and gripping his microphone before heading to the door. Glancing left to right, he's relieved to find it quiet and escapes hurriedly, finding Alberto's personal locker room and slipping inside. He's not sure where Alberto is but he knows he wouldn't leave without him, so he sits and waits, staring down at the bag tucked safely against his feet.

Finally the door is pushed open and Alberto comes in, still looking somewhat grumpy. His eyes soften, however, when he spots Ricardo, and then his lips part as he notices the bag at his feet. "What did you do?" he breathes out, kneeling down next to the bench and unzipping it, quickly going through everything inside. "It's all here. How did you find it?"

"Being an interviewer has its advantages," Ricardo manages without grimacing in pain, smiling at his former employer.

"But... they have attacked you in the past for it," Alberto says, his brows furrowing. "How did you walk away unscathed tonight?" Ricardo pales a little and tries to find an explanation before Alberto sits down next to him and rests his hand on Ricardo's lower stomach, lightly prodding.

"Ay," Ricardo grunts, trying to squirm away. "Stop, El Patron, I'm fine."

"You definitely are not," Alberto hisses, putting his fingers back and pressing in until Ricardo groans, his eyes squeezed shut when Alberto peeks up at him. "Oh, mi valiente, that perro bull gored you again, si?"

"Si," Ricardo grunts, leaning forward as Alberto gentles his touch, massaging the sore muscles below his fingertips. The massage eventually starts to work, Ricardo's breathing calming down as the pain eases away. "Gracias," he sighs.

Alberto leans in and kisses him. "I'll take better care of you once we're back at the hotel, I promise. Muchas gracias for getting my things back, mi valiente. I don't know what i'd do without you."

Ricardo smiles at him, his eyes gleaming. "You'll never have to worry about that," he promises, quickly kissing Alberto. "May we leave soon?"

"Si, I'm done here," Alberto says, collecting all of their bags and ignoring Ricardo's protests. "Let's go." Hand pressed to Ricardo's back, he leads him down a quiet part of the hallway towards the exit, determined to get them back to the hotel ASAP so Ricardo can rest and recover.


	36. Interview: Dos

It's difficult sometimes, still acting like he and Alberto hate each other. But Ricardo does it, especially in interviews for TV. He'd like things to go back to normal, but Alberto thinks this is best so Ricardo goes along with it as best as he can, even when his heart isn't in it and he just misses being around his significant other. But he keeps as busy as he can, doing various things backstage to help out, sometimes training people, sometimes helping the seamstresses, anything that he can find to do to keep his mind off of things until they can leave, reunite back at the hotel and be _themselves_ once more for awhile.

This goes well until their second interview together, Alberto poking and taunting him with a dark, angry look in his eye that's only softened by a wink once he's out of the camera's path on his way out of the room. There's a multi-man match scheduled against the Shield, pitting eleven men (including Alberto) against the Shield, but the Shield had targetted various men through the night, leaving Ricardo tense and watchful, worried that any time it'd be Alberto getting roughed up backstage to the point of not being able to compete, but he survives the evening thankfully, and is one of the five men left to wrestle against the Shield.

Despite the uneven numbers, Alberto's team still loses ground against Ambrose, Rollins and Reigns, and Ricardo paces around the main locker room as he watches, chewing on his thumbnail. A lot is happening, Alberto, Barrett, Ryback, Titus and Sandow struggling to keep it all together, but eventually Alberto and Bad News try to escape up the ramp, leaving the other three men to continue getting beat up. Ricardo breathes a little easier when Alberto is almost safely behind the gorilla position, until the crowd begins freaking out and Barrett turns in time to see Roman Reigns coming after them, pushing Alberto into their path and getting away just in time as Alberto is taken out with a superman punch.

Ricardo curses in Spanish, tugging at his hair slightly as he bites his lip. "C'mon," he mumbles, closing his eyes. Shield wins the match and he breathes a little easier when they keep their focus on Titus, Sandow and Ryback, allowing Alberto to escape. He's still standing there, uncomfortable and worried, when Alberto joins him, deciding to drop the act for a little bit. "Are you ok?" he demands as soon as the door shuts behind him, reaching out with shaking hands to grip Alberto's shoulders.

"Sore," he admits. "But fine. I didn't want you to worry, so I'm here for you to see for yourself."

Ricardo swallows, looking Alberto over, touching his glistening skin. "Gracias," he murmurs, relieved for the consideration as he comforts himself with this closeness to his former employer. "Can we leave now?"

"After I get dressed," Alberto agrees, slowly turning to collect his bag. He stops when he realizes Ricardo is still trembling a bit and turns back to him, hugging him tightly to his chest. "I'm fine," he repeats, holding on until Ricardo relaxes in his arms, breathing in and out softly. "We're going to be ok."

Ricardo nods, lips twitching up into a smile as Alberto kisses the top of his head. "Lo siento, I just hate not being out there to help you anymore," he admits.

"I know," Alberto murmurs. "But this is how things have to be for now." He pats Ricardo's face, catching his eye. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

Ricardo nods, watching him go into the showers. He forces himself to relax with a couple of deep inhales and exhales. _Everything's ok,_ he reminds himself. _We're going to be fine._


End file.
